


Into The Fire

by staringatstars



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Foot Clan - Freeform, Gen, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-04 04:45:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 56,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4125913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staringatstars/pseuds/staringatstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo and Michelangelo woke on the streets with no memory of the past seventeen years of their lives beyond their names and the absolute certainty that they were brothers. After surviving a month on their own, they were adopted by the leader of the Foot Clan. Now it's time to prove their loyalty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into The Foot

"Come on, Leo! Rise and shine, bro. It's time to wake up!"

Leo turned on his side, pulled the sheets over his head, and groaned, "Quiet, Mikey, it's not even seven, yet." Ever since they'd woken up together in the shadows of an alley, he'd had a biological clock that always woke him at seven. It didn't even matter if he'd gone to only sleep at five or six, he was still up and alert at seven, his body humming with the expectation of exercise. Any earlier than seven and he was practically dead to the world. Which was why he did not appreciate it when his little brother took it upon himself to snatch the sheets away – _it's cold_ – and shake his bed.

"We're being punished, remember?" Leo blinked, the memory of Xever showing up to morning practice yesterday with a black-ink mustache drawn across his snout replaying itself in his brain. Rahzar, the jerk, had completely and utterly failed to let Xever know that there was a swirly mustache drawn on his face before Master Shredder came to inspect them. Probably because he knew it would get Mikey in trouble. The fish-mutant had spun to glare at Michelangelo the second Master pointed it out. So, really, _Mikey_ was being punished. The only reason he had to get up too was because he'd asked their master to let him share in the punishment since, as he'd pointed out, Mikey was his little brother and therefore it was his responsibility to keep him out of trouble.

Watching his little brother hop around the room as he tried to yank on his pants, Leo joked, "You know, I think I'm starting to regret my life choices. Maybe I should just tell Master that I changed my mind and let you spent the next three weeks waking up on your own."

Brushing his teeth now, Mikey smirked, white bubbles framing his lips, "Hey, that's a great idea." A shrug. "What possible trouble could I get into wandering around this place for an hour by myself, right?"

Point taken, Leo slipped out of bed, throwing the alarm clock a dirty look as he moved to the chest they shared and pulled out a pair of dark sweatpants. Out of the corner of his eye, he tried to catch a glimpse of his brother's unguarded face. There was something wrong with the set of his shoulders, and was it Leo's imagination or had he never actually heard the alarm clock ring? He hummed thoughtfully to himself. "Mike," at the sound of his name, his little brother stiffened, toothbrush still in hand, "do you remember what happens when you wake me up too early?"

A stern expression tried to form itself on Mikey's features. "No, Leo, we don't have time for-" Leo cut him off with a groan as he collapsed to the ground and curled inwards.

"I can't stop it, Mikey." Leo gasped.

"You can, though." Mikey edged towards the door, trying as hard as he could not to laugh, then froze when he felt three fingers latch onto his ankle.

Wide-eyed, Leo continued, "The transformation-"

"Isn't real."

"-is taking place." Slowly, he climbed to his feet. Head hanging and shoulders slumped, he grabbed Mikey by the shoulders and cried, "The Morning Monster is awake!"

Growling playfully, he lifted Mikey up and dropped him on the bed, then tickled his arms and plastron until he could barely breath. Through peals of laughter, Mikey called for mercy. "I give. I give." Another fit of giggles attacked him. "You win, Leo!"

Fighting a grin, Leo pulled back, then he finally caught a glimpse of what he'd been looking for and the urge to smile vanished. There were dark shadows under his brother's eyes. "Mike," startled at the abrupt change in tone, Mikey reluctantly controlled his snickers and threw Leo a wary look, "did you stay up the entire night?" Mikey shrugged, then rolled his eyes when he saw Leo get ready to go full lecture mode on him. "Listen to me, Michelangelo," Leo placed a hand on his shoulder, "if you're not rested, you'll make mistakes. If you make mistakes, you'll get punished. And I don't want to see that happen."

"Neither do I," Mikey argued, "that's why I stayed up so I could make sure we got out on time but," Leo followed his eyes to see they were running a few minutes late, "it looks like we'll be waking up at five tomorrow."

Not if Leo could help it.

He grabbed Mikey's hand, "Woah!" and raced out the door, dragging his little brother along so fast his feet barely touched the ground. "Slow down, you manic!" Mikey panted once they'd already stopped. Then he looked up to see they were standing outside the dojo. "Oh." He chuckled, slapping Leo on the shell. "You're one crazy turtle, you know that?"

Leo snorted, shooting his brother a cocky grin. "You're just jealous because I'm faster than you."

"Oh?" Mikey rolled on the balls on his feet, ready to run or spar if Leo initiated it. Dojos were made for that sort of stuff, anyway. "Way I remember it, you lost our last race."

Before Leo could retort, Xever shoved past them, bumping purposefully into Mikey and throwing him off-balance. Leo rushed forward to catch him before he went sprawling to the ground, then turned to growl at their unappreciated company, his arms tightening protectively around his little brother, "What are you doing here, Xever? I don't remember you being punished."

"The Shredder ordered us to gather here early for your," an unpleasant grin revealed the razor-edged teeth in his mouth, "initiation." Mikey gulped.

Anything that made Xever or Rahzar smile usually spelled trouble for him and Leo. For some reason, the two just seemed to hate them. And while Leo at least had their master's protection, Mikey was on his own. Unlike Leo, he wasn't Master Shredder's favorite student. In fact, on a long list of favorite or at least well-liked students, he didn't even rank. Where Leo was wanted, Mikey was tolerated. And as much as he wanted to change that, nothing he did seemed to do anything but reinforce the idea that he was good for anything other than target practice.

Seeing the look on his face, Xever smacked his lips, sneering, "Ready to be thrown back out on the streets, little turtle?"

"Hey," Leo said firmly, "don't talk to him like that." For Mikey's benefit, he added more gently, "No one's going to be thrown back to the streets."

Rahzar picked that moment to come strolling around the corner. "I think that's up to Master Shredder to decide, don't you, Leonardo?"

"What's your problem, Rahzar?" Mikey retorted as he broke away from his brother so he could stand on his own two feet, "Couldn't find a fire hydrant when Master Shredder took you out for your morning walk?"

"Mikey!" Leo hissed as he tried to pull his brother behind him. Xever and Rahzar seemed to want their heads on a platter for the high crime of breathing, but provoking them wasn't going to make that any better and it certainly wasn't going to make his position as leader-to-be any easier.

Mike pulled away from him. "Leo, these guys are probably never going to like me, but you protecting me all the time isn't helping."

"You should listen to your older brother," Xever leaned closer to Mikey until he was barely a hair's width away from touching his beak, "Leonardo may be the master's golden boy, but I don't think Master Shredder would mind if something _unfortunate_ were to happen to one little irritant." Rahzar laughed throatily, the sound like dried leaves brushing against a tombstone.

Just as the two turtles began to instinctively move to cover each other's backs, the steel doors to the dojo opened. Inside, they could see the Shredder standing with his hands clasped and his back to them. Since the Foot Clan was based in a skyscraper, the entire back wall was one giant window. At the edge of the city, the sun could be seen peeking over the horizon, yet not all of the stars had faded from the sky.

Back before the Shredder had taken them in, Mikey had loved the sunrise. It was the only time he got to enjoy the sun without worrying about being seen by humans. In a way, though, he hated it, too. The sunrise meant it was time to hide in dumpsters or sleep under cardboard and pray that they weren't found.

They'd lasted a month on their own before the Shredder found them and took them into his home. And all he wanted in return was their loyalty.

Even knowing that, Mikey couldn't help but glare at his back. He didn't know why, but being around their master always made his skin crawl.

When the Shredder finally deigned to turn around and greet them, two black masks dangled from his hands, each swaying slightly in the gentle breeze provided by the air conditioning. From the lights to the air to the people, everything seemed fake in the Foot Clan tower. At least when he'd slept on cardboard and tar, Mikey had known that everything he'd touched and everything he'd felt was real. And he'd never tell Leo, not after he'd done so much to keep him safe, but he missed that certainty.

"These masks," the Shredder said as he stared each of them in them in the eyes, apparently satisfied with what he saw, "prove that you have earned the right to call yourselves members of the Foot." Standing beside him, Mikey saw Leo straighten with pride. With this, they wouldn't have to worry about finding food or a place to sleep again, but it was more than that. Leo genuinely wanted to please the man who'd taken them in. It was written all over his face. "And now," Mikey tensed, "it is time for your first mission." Gesturing out the window, he said, "This mission is a test of your loyalty. A test that I know," an armored hand came to rest on Leo's shoulder, "you will pass admirably, my disciple."

Leo bowed his head. "Of course, Master."

Feeling he should make some sort of acknowledgement, Mikey nodded, even though no one was looking at him and he was pretty sure nobody cared. To his surprise, the Shredder did turn to look at him.

"Michelangelo," their master towered over him now, looking about as friendly and approachable an executioner, "I expect you to follow orders."

The reply came automatically. "Yes, Master."

"And I expect you to act like a practitioner of the ancient art of ninjutsu. No more foolishness."

Clenching his fists but trying to keep his tone respectful, Mikey answered, "I won't fail you, Master." And bowed. Unshed tears stung at his eyes. He could feel the others looking at his back, feel their joy at his being singled out and chastised _again_. He knew Leo would talk to him later, tell him things would get better if he just toned it down with the jokes a little and focused, but if it were just him serving with Fishface and Dogbreath and nearly getting the shell beaten out of him during training every day – Leo was usually able to keep the "spars" from escalating too far - then he'd have left, already.

As he slipped the black mask over the back of Mikey's head, the Shredder spoke to him in a low, almost confidential tone, "Your brother has earned his place here, Michelangelo. See that you do the same."

As soon as the masks were on and tied, they were fully debriefed on their first mission. Apparently, it was going to be a joint effort with the Purple Dragons, local thugs that were supposed to be bad news, and its objective was to steal from a pharmacy owner who'd refused to pay his protection fee.

Mikey stole another glance at his brother to see he'd gone completely still, some of the color draining from his face as his brow furrowed with doubt. Being a ninja, being Leo, was all about doing what was right and honorable. How was robbing a pharmacy either of those things? How could the man who asked to be trusted?

Inwardly, Mikey seethed. This was wrong. He knew it the same way he knew which fruit was rotten in a dumpster. And if he could just get Leo alone…

"You'll be leaving immediately," their master said as he passed them the weapons they'd woken up with two months ago, two katanas for Leo and a pair of 'chucks for Mikey. "And it would be wise," he added, legitimately threatening in a way that schoolyard bullies like Rahzar and Xever could only dream of, "not to disappoint me. Though I am sure," his gaze fell on Leo, softening a fraction, "you will not."


	2. Into The Mud

Mikey tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for whatever one-on-one pep talk the Shredder was giving Leo to end so he could talk to him. He, Rahzar, and Xever had all been dismissed with the expectation that they would gear up and regroup at the main entrance. Really, though, elbow pads, knee pads, and a wicked pair of nunchaku were all he needed. He wasn't actually sure what the mask was for, though. If there were anyone out there who could recognize him, then he doubted a piece of fabric would do much to hide the fact that he was a giant, talking turtle.

_Oh, the giant talking turtle I know doesn't wear a mask. This must be a different one._

Absently, he twirled one of the tails around his finger. Sigh. Black just wasn't his color. It made his skin look washed out and sickly. Well, he was always green, but it was a very nice green. A healthy green. Like flower buds and lily pads. Leo's was more like moss and underbrush, the sort that thrived in hard places and shadow.

Even though he'd crack a joke about how no one would be able to tell them apart now that they were wearing the same mask, that was pretty much just wishful thinking. Leo still had a few inches on him. Plus, no freckles.

Mike liked to think that whoever he'd been two months ago got to hang out in the sun a lot. That was how you got freckles, right? There was no way he could have hung out indoors or under bridges his entire life and gotten freckles.

By the time the door finally opened and his brother stepped out, Mikey was contemplating the benefits of having three fingers as opposed to five.

"Leo!" Mikey quickly ran to his side, throwing an anxious glance behind him as the door slammed shut. "Leo, what did he say to you?" He looked way more relaxed than he'd been after Master Shredder first told them what the mission was, calmer, so something must have changed.

For a second, Leo just looked at him, uncertain, then the look melted into a warm smile and he led Mike away by the crook of his arm. Nervous and little scared now, Mikey asked him again what their master had said them to him. "He told me not to tell you," Leo confessed, his gaze straight ahead, "because he thinks it might affect your performance, but he doesn't know you as well as I do." Leaning in conspiratorially, he said, "Master told me the pharmacy workers are in on it. They've been informed that the Foot is conducting a test for the new recruits and they're cool with it." The chuckle he ended with had a note of self-deprecation in it. He clearly felt silly for having doubted the master for even a second.

And if he felt silly for doubting the master for even a second, then how would he feel if Mikey told him that he'd doubted the master since he met him? And for what? Because his gut told him something was weird was going on? Whoever he'd been didn't matter, because who he was now had only been training to be a ninja for a month and that just didn't carry a whole lot of credibility with it.

Although, on that note, they learned the moves awfully quick for supposed newbies. Weren't backflips supposed to be hard? Mikey could do them with one hand tied behind his back. Literally.

The only thing he seemed to have trouble with was holding back. Master Shredder wanted him to swing hard enough to turn bones to dust, to swing his kusarigama until it bit skin and sliced veins. Sure, his "teammates" didn't seem to have any trouble hurting him, but his muscles remembered something he'd forgotten. They remembered how it felt to fight for fun, without anger or bloodlust. It was something he wasn't sure he wanted to forget. It was something he was afraid Leo was already starting to.

He stopped walking. Leo stopped too, concern creeping over his face. "Mikey? What's wrong?"

Mikey swallowed. "None of this feels wrong to you? I mean," his stomach churned, "something just feels off, you know?"

Leo stared, letting the words sink in, then something warm and soft came over him, something the Shredder had never seen before, something he showed only to his little brother. He pushed Mike's black mask up to his forehead and brushed a thin, white line of barely healed skin with a calloused finger. "This isn't like before, Mikey." Mike listened to the quiet confidence in his voice, letting it roll over him. "I trust this guy. And I think he wants what's best for us."

He waited with bated breath for Mikey's answer. Scratching his head, Mike replied with a touch of resignation, "You're really happy here, aren't you, _aniki?_ "

Leo let his shoulders fall, losing some of his rigid leader posture as he sincerely answered, "I am." Frowning a little, he cupped the back of Mikey's head, drawing him closer, and added, "Aren't you? Because, you know, I can order Rahzar and Xever to be nicer to you now."

"Don't you dare," Mikey grumbled, knowing it'd make things worse for him, but reluctant to elaborate when he knew it would just ruin the good mood Leo had going. Laughing, Leo released him. It was almost time to for the mission and the leader had to get into position.

He waved as he jogged ahead, leaving Mike to wonder if maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe his bad feeling didn't mean anything. And Leo looked so at home giving orders… how could he take that away from him because his defective gut told him something was up?

The last time he trusted his gut over Leo, he'd nearly had his face sliced in two by a frightened human with a switchblade. And it was only thanks to Leo that the one thing he had to show for the encounter was a small scar over his brow. Knowing that, the right answer was obvious.

Mike shook himself, gearing himself up to pass whatever test Master Shredder threw at him, and ran to catch up.

 

The pharmacy looked like a giant gray block of cement made up of little gray blocks of cement, every inch of it coated in a layer of dust and dirt. Next to the front entrance, two sliding glass doors, a crudely spray-painted PD could be seen. Whoever'd done the job had been an amateur, though, because the paint had dripped before it'd dried, meaning they'd sprayed the bottle too close for too long. Smirking, Mikey turned to the mean looking thug in the vest standing beside him with his arms crossed over his chest, gestured to the graffiti, and snarked, "Aw, that's cute. You guys get tired of finger-painting or something?"

Instead of answering, the Purple Dragon reached out and cuffed him upside the head. "Ow," Mike hissed through his teeth. Rubbing the back of his head, he said, "This actually feels kind of familiar. Maybe you're not the first big, ugly goon I've had to work with." When the thug lifted his hand again, Mikey took a step back, arms raised. "Hey, no hard feelings, bro. Not everyone can be as pretty as me."

Growling at the taunt, the thug puffed up his chest, flexed his muscles, and clenched a fist. The movement made the blue dragon tattooed across his chest, which Mikey noted sourly, was actually the coolest thing about him. As far as he could tell, the big guy was 90% showmanship, 10% substance, and -2% brain.

Then, against expectation, he relaxed, whistling out a breath through his teeth. "This is your first time, isn't it?" He jerked his head towards the doors. "A lot of new guys are like you. They look down on the rest of us because they haven't gotten their hands dirty yet. Maybe they think 'Just this once' or 'I'm only doing this because I'm desperate' but, in the end, we're all sinking in the mud together. The dirt gets in your eyes, your ears, your mouth, and it doesn't come off." Behind him, Mikey saw Leo looking animated as he spoke with Xever and Rahzar. Leo noticed him watching and waved. Not feeling up for a cheerful salute, Mike just sort of swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and nodded, keeping one eye on the Purple Dragon, who followed his gaze. "I guess what I'm saying is: It doesn't matter if you're green or purple, the second you step into that building and decide that your needs are greater than anyone else's, you'll be just as dirty as the rest of us."

With a wry twist of his mouth, Mike replied, "Yeah, but we'll still smell nicer."

Surprised, the thug chuckled."You know, you're not so bad when we're on the same side." There was a duffel bag lying in their supply pile a few feet away. He trotted over it, pushed aside some of the just-in-case weapons they'd brought, and finally pulled out a size XL black hoodie. He tossed it to Mike, who raised a bemused brow as he caught it.

"What's this for?"

"It's for keeping your face out of the papers. Keep the hood up; don't look at the cameras, and when it's time to move, you run. Got it?"

"Uh, yeah."

Two people walked out of the pharmacy just as Leo jogged over. "Okay, you two, you'll be going in with Rahzar. I sent in Fong," the thinnest and least conspicuous of the Purple Dragon trio, "to report back to me on how many customers were in the store and, if what he said was right, the coast should be clear now, so just intimidate the cashier into handing over whatever he has and we'll let Fong and Tsoi bring it back to the Hun. If anything goes wrong, Xever and I will provide reinforcements. But," here he zeroed in on Mikey, making him nervously shift his weight backwards, even though he hadn't even done anything wrong yet, "Mike, if you think you're in danger in there, it's completely okay to abandon Rahzar. In fact, as your leader, I encourage it." Leo cracked a grin as though he'd just told a joke, but his eyes stayed cool and hard, letting all present know that he absolutely meant it.

Mikey rolled his eyes, "I may not like him, Leo, but he's my teammate now. I can't just leave 'em in the lurch to save my own skin." The response earned him an approving glance from the Purple Dragon he'd been talking to, which could have been a good thing or a bad thing. A compelling argument could really be made for both.

Leo held him by the shoulders. "At least, promise me you'll be careful."

"Careful," Mikey confidently jabbed a thumb towards his chest, "is my middle name."

Suppressing a groan, something everyone else within hearing range didn't bother to do, Leo quietly asked the Purple Dragon to keep an eye out for his younger brother. "I don't trust Rahzar to watch his back."

"Good," Rahzar spat as he stalked past them, his keen hearing once again making him the life of the party, "because I'm not going to. This is a ninja mission, kiddies." They hadn't told him or Xever that the civilians actually were in on it, since Leo figured they'd be more cooperative if they thought they were actually hurting people. "Not babysitting. And, also," he threw Michelangelo a wolfish grin over his shoulder, "I hate you."

"Oh, bite me."

"I'm considering it."

Just to make it crystal clear how he felt about Rahzar's latest threat, Leo drew one of his katanas. "No one on this team is going to eat anyone. Now," he turned his attention back to Mikey and his new criminal friend, "I hope you two are ready, because it's time for the might of the Foot Clan to rain down it's wrath upon-" One blink later and he was opening his eyes to see Rahzar, Mikey, and Sid walking through the pharmacy doors. He promptly deflated. "Oh, come on, guys! I practiced that!"

 

Chuckling to himself, Mikey imitated his brother under his breath. " _For the might of the Foot Clan!_ Man, that was super lame." He threw the hood over his head after tossing a quick look over his shoulder so he could reassure himself that his dorky brother was nearby, and then jumped as the automatic doors opened with a whoosh. Cool air slammed into his face.

Immediately after entering, the group spilt up. Mikey headed towards canned foods so he could block the emergency exit, Sid lumbered up to the register to demand the money, and Rahzar's job was to loom menacingly over his head, maybe flash his pearly whites every now and then.

"Give us the money! Now, old man!" The man at the register was Chinese and couldn't have been younger than seventy. When he didn't move fast enough for Sid's taste, Sid repeated the order in Mandarin, then sent everything besides the register crashing to the ground.

Mikey ducked into an aisle, cringing at the sounds he heard, because if the old man was just pretending to be scared then he deserved an award or something. There was a lone cart parked about five feet away from him, and if it weren't for the two bodies huddled behind it, Mikey would've dismissed it without a second glance.

"Shhh, it's okay." A hushed voice was saying, a slight tremor evident in the way the words shook. "I've got you. I won't let them hurt you."

Wide brown eyes peeked out at him from her lap. "Mommy, someone's here." Mike backed up just as the woman shifted her position so her back shielded her boy from view. Not to be deterred, though, the kid peered over her shoulder, more curious than scared. "Why is your face green? Why do you wear a mask? Where's your nose?" He opened his mouth to ask another question, though all he managed was a muffled mmph after his mom clapped a hand over his mouth.

Quietly, Mikey crept closer, his thoughts reeling as he tugged the hoodie off his head and untied his mask. What were they doing here? The Purple Dragons gave the all clear, right? And though Master Shredder had told Leo that the pharmacy knew they were coming, judging by the sounds coming from the register, things were only escalating. If the old man had agreed to this, wouldn't he have handed the money over by now? Was this really all a part of a test?

Seeing his face, the woman's eyes bugged, her mouth falling open. A deep breath warned him that she was getting ready to scream, so he pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. It was the first thing that popped into his head. The boy pushed his mother's hand away and blurted, "Why do you only have three fingers?"

And, wow, human children were exhausting. Mikey stared at the kid in disbelief. On the one hand, he didn't want to scare him but – "Don't lie to me, _fèirén!_ I know you have more in the back. Go get it or the Purple Dragons will burn this place to the ground" – but he and his mom had to leave _now._

Speaking quickly, Mikey said, "I'm naturally green, the mask gives me powers – ninja powers – and I left my nose in my other pants. As for my fingers," he wiggled them, shrugging, "five fingers are really overrated, you know? Who needs five? If you ask me, the other two fingers are just extra." The mother's eyes flickered between them, tense and unsure. He couldn't really blame her, though.

Ever since his first encounter with a human, he'd thought of them with a mix of fear and curiosity. They were always something that could hurt him, could hurt Leo, but they were also many different shades of humans. Even the little boy in front of him was a good example. His skin was actually slight darker than Mikey's, a warm brown that reminded him of a teddy bear Leo had found once.

If protecting him and his mother meant failing the test, then maybe the dumb test wasn't worth passing.

"I'm going to help you two get out of here."

The boy's eyes lit up. "Really?" Tugging his mother's sleeve, he whispered, "Mom, did you hear? The turtle man is going to help go home."

Stroking his hair, she replied, "I heard, sweetie." While Mike moved ahead to see exactly where Rahzar and Sid were standing, she explained that the emergency exit would alert the police the second it opened. Not only that, but it'd flash red and scream until the owner or the police department got the right key to shut it off.

All in all, getting the kid and his mom out the door would ruin Leo's mission. There had to be a way for him to keep them safe without letting his brother down.

Swallowing, Mikey muttered, "Okay, that's one option. Let me see if I can think of… anything else first." Talking to the others, his teammates, was at least worth a shot.

Knowing that, ultimately, he couldn't let anything happen to the humans, he slipped the hood over his head, tied the mask over his eyes, and stepped out of the aisle. Once Rahzar caught sight of him, he growled, "What took you so long, Michelangelo? We're almost done here."

"Really?" Act natural. "That's, uh, that's cool." He faked a cough. "So, we going now or…" A whimper by the cash register pulled his attention away from the wolf-mutant. Lying on the floor was the old man he'd last seen behind the register, his hands clutched around his stomach, his expression contorted with pain.

Standing over him, Sid was almost done piling the last of the cash into a burlap sack. Once he noticed Mike watching him, he paused.

"Is this what you meant by dirt?"

He flinched, cast a wary glance at Rahzar, and then gave a shrug. "This is what we do, Michelangelo. We're criminals. We hurt people."

Mikey shook his head. "You're wrong. We didn't have to do this. We were just supposed to take the money. You didn't have to hurt him." And it stung. Even though he'd insulted him, Sid had been decent, almost nice to him. But he was just as bad as the rest of them. And Mikey wasn't much better.

He'd agreed to this.

_Crash!_

They whirled around, eyes drawn to the sound of cans falling. "Mommy!" A young voice cried. "The turtle man needs our he- mmph!" A single can of raviolis rolled across the floor. Mikey winced.

Busted.

"Looks like you've been holding out on us, Michelangelo." Rahzar licked his lips. "The Shredder will be pleased when we bring him two new subjects for his experiments."

The blood drained from Mikey's face as his hands curled into fists. "I'm warning you Rahzar. Stay away from them." Jerking his head to the money in Sid's hands, he said," We have the money to give the Purple Dragons. The misson's complete. So, _please_ ," blue eyes widened, begging, "let's just go."

And even though Mike knew Rahzar didn't like him, he had no idea just how much. The instant Rahzar saw him let his guard down, he charged forward, roaring, and Mike leapt atop the nearest shelf to avoid him. "Hey!" Rahzar swept at him, momentarily more interested in him than the stray humans, and Sid watched, his gaze flitting between them and the exit. A hard landing tipped the aisle Mikey was clambering over and it fell like a domino, slamming into the wolf mutant and knocking him to the ground. A quick grin flitted across Mike's face. Then it kept going, crashing into the next aisle, the one where the two humans were hiding.

Acting on muscle memory, the teenaged turtle flipped into the next aisle, gathered the two humans in his arms, and let his shell take the brunt of the hit. Cans pounded against his carapace one after another, the frightened cries of the kid in his arms punctuating each one.

Once the onslaught was finally over, he shifted, letting the cans roll off his back, and lifted the aisle as far as he could. The mother looked at him, angry and scared the same she'd been a few minutes ago, when he first met her, but none of it was directed at him this time. She didn't want to leave the child she'd just met with monsters, even if he did look at little strange. But if he moved, the aisle would collapse. "Go," Mike gasped, panting. The other shelf was lying on the one he was trying hoist over his head, doubling it's weight. "I'll be fine." She nodded, grabbing her son as he protested, his little hands still reaching for Michelangelo long after she'd hefted him over her shoulder and darted out the door.

_Sorry, Leo._

Three things happened simultaneously then. The sound of a siren, the kind an ambulance would have, blared throughout the store, Rahzar threw the shelf Mike had accidentally trapped him under across the store, and two bodies jumped through the windows, shattering them.

"Wow," said a loud voice that definitely didn't belong to Leo. "Setting the alarm off? Really? Even for the Purple Dragons, this is just sad."


	3. Into The Red

The voice crushed something in him, opening a wound he hadn't even known existed until then. Then his legs buckled. A can rolled under him and he slid across the floor, his face meeting the linoleum with a force that would have resulted in blood gushing from his nostrils if he'd been human. As it was, he'd probably be awkwardly rubbing and scrunching his beak for a week, but then the shelf followed him down, literally crushing him, and he couldn't breathe. He wheezed as the voice he'd heard, the familiar one, suddenly sounded alarmed and was joined by a voice that sounded more nasally and exhausted.

He curled in on himself, feeling hurt and scared and _where was Leo?_ But then the shelf was being lifted off of him and he could _breathe_ and- be slammed against the wall by an angry frog. Because that was just the sort of day he was having.

It was hard to focus with the hand around his throat but it was also impossible not notice that the green blur that had saved him and then pinned him against the wall wasn't a frog at all. It was a mutant turtle.

"Hey," the turtle growled, "unless you want to end up like your buddy over there," he jerked his head towards Sid tied up with weighted ropes around his arms and legs, the money spilled over the floor, then let his narrowed eyes drift to the old man "then I suggest you answer one simple question, newbie: Where are my brothers?"

Even though the turtle was armed, angry, and clearly more competent than the average garden-variety New York ninja, his leafy green eyes looked more hurt than anything. And it wasn't anything Mikey had done or even something that had happened recently. There was breaking and shadows in them.

But he and Leo had waited. They'd waited days - weeks - for someone to find them, for someone to _want_ them, and it was the Shredder who'd come, who'd rescued them.

Behind the angry green-eyed turtle, a taller turtle with a bo staff and a purple mask was being thrown around by Rahzar like he was made out of cotton and fluff. "Uh, Raph," Mike's blue eyes went wide as dinner plates, because he _knew_ this voice, this face, even the sheer exasperation he managed to exude despite his foot currently being captured and his head making pretty holes in the ceiling panels, "if you're not – _ow_ – too busy – _ow_ – do you think – _stop that!"_ The purple masked turtled slammed his staff onto Rahzar's fingers, right across his knuckles, and the wolf mutant snarled with irritation and pain. Now that Rahzar's grip was momentarily weakened, the turtle twisted, wrenching his legs from his fingers and then adjusted his weight as he fell so he was in the perfect position to clock Rahzar across the broad side of his skull with a staff that was made for breaking bones.

"Huh." Rahzar's entire body went stiff, mouth gone silent mid-roar. Then he toppled over like a domino. "Looks like I didn't need the help, after all." Raph spared him an impressed look as he jogged over, and Mikey noticed for the first time that both of these mutants looked like they hadn't slept in months. The dark circles under their eyes sank all the way to their cheekbones.

Mikey's breath hitched, his head throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Something was struggling to swim to the top of his brain but, whatever it was, it _hurt._ Hands grabbed his arms, shaking him. "I said, 'Tell me where my brothers are!"

"Raph." The purple masked turtle looked completely drained, all the triumphant high from his victory gone like smoke as he laid a three-fingered hand on the other turtle's shoulder. "Look at him, he's shaking. And he's probably younger than us. Even if the Purple Dragons are with the Foot, I doubt he'd know." Then he turned to leave, and something in Mike twisted. He didn't know them or remember them and he definitely didn't trust them. But he didn't want them to leave.

"Wait," Mikey croaked. The pressure around his throat reduced to almost nothing, the two ninja in front of him suddenly gaping at him like they'd been wandering lost in a maze and he'd just shown them the way out. Or like he was the missing piece of the puzzle they'd spent their whole lives looking for. They looked at him like he was everything.

Fumbling, trembling hands pushed his hood back, pulled his mask down, and there was so much doubt and fear and hope as they breathed, _"Mikey?"_

A small object the size of a grenade flew through the broken window and hit the ground with a _thud_ , releasing a dense purple smoke that spread across the entire store in seconds. Strong arms pulled Mikey away from the hands that had held him and dragged him out the door.

It hurt to hear the two turtles – mutant turtles like him and Leo – as they called for him, their desperate cries following him out the door and into the street, never quite leaving his thoughts long after he was out of earshot.

He didn't remember having brothers or even a family. Just Leo. But what were the chances that there were completely unrelated ninja turtles looking for their brothers in New York and _who knew his name?!_

The family he and Leo had waited a month for, the one they'd given up on… maybe they'd never given up on them.

And maybe he'd inhaled some smoke or maybe he was just scared, but by the time Leo stopped and turned to face him, Mikey felt like crying.

"Mikey?" Leo said, immediately easing up on the death grip and going full throttle into Big Bro mode when he saw the tears, concern etched all over his face. "Are you okay?" He checked him over, frowning at the tender spots and bruises. Cold intensity entered narrowed eyes as he glared back at the pharmacy where Xever was now dragging Rahzar behind him like he was an old luggage bag and Sid was frantically hopping to keep up the pace. "The two ninja who had you cornered- did they hurt you?"

Mikey went to shake his head but the finger-shaped bands around his neck answered for him. Likely, the green-eyed turtle, Raph, hadn't meant to hurt him so much as he hadn't cared if he did. Unfortunately, it didn't make much of a difference to Leo whether the strange ninja he'd seen pinning his little brother against the wall had meant to hurt him or not.

Honestly, though, Mikey didn't want to fight anymore. Fong had told them the coast was clear when it wasn't, the Shredder had told them the cashier knew they were coming and he hadn't, the two ninja he'd met looked like him and they were probably about his age and the way they'd called for him, like they'd shatter if they had to lose him a second time, ripped at his heart, but it was all too much to think about then. He was tired.

He leaned against Leo's chest, whispering an apology for the mission, for everything, even the things he couldn't help and the things that weren't his fault, and Leo relaxed, letting some of the ice building in him melt so he could wrap his arms around his little brother, tell him everything was going to be alright, and bring him back home.

 

"You called for us, Master Shredder?"

The second they arrived back at the Foot base, Mikey, knowing he didn't have a lot of time, told Leo all about the two humans he'd found huddling in the can section. He may have passed over Rahzar trying to eat him (it wasn't exactly unexpected), the sneaking suspicion he had that Master Shredder had been less than truthful about their 'test,' and the fact that the two ninja that had gotten the jump on him were also reptiles trained in ninjutsu and, oh, they just happened to be looking for their brothers. What a funny coincidence, right?

Right. Like that didn't sound completely insane.

Would Leo even believe that if he told him? Three weeks ago, Mikey would have told him anything, but that was when they'd just had each other, when Michelangelo alone had been enough for his older brother. Now, he was afraid that if he told Leo what he thought about the strange ninja he'd encountered, Leo would report what he said to the Shredder. And something quiet, something half-forgotten or maybe half-remembered, whispered that he absolutely couldn't let that happen.

Leo threw an arm out, stopping him in his tracks. The Shredder was standing in the center of the room, facing them with his arms behind his back, and from what little they could see of his face, he wasn't happy.

"Master." Head bowed, Leo kneeled, with Mikey joining him on the floor immediately after. "I wish to accept full responsibility for the mission's failure." He felt more than saw Mike open his mouth and threw a hard glare his way to keep him silent.

The Shredder grunted, as though he'd expected this. "From what I heard of Xever's report, you fulfilled your role more than adequately. Every weapon, every man, was present and where they were meant to be."

"That's true, Master," Leo replied, having trouble keeping the unease from his voice as Mikey fought to keep his breathing under control, "However, the actions of every ninja under my command are also my responsibility."

The Shredder paused, considering. "You are correct, Leonardo." Hearing that, Mikey nearly leapt to his feet, except Leo threw an arm out, his face gone soft and begging for him to trust him. It was his 'I have a plan' face. It'd gotten them through a few scrapes and it'd kept Mikey's head above the water on those nights when the pressure of being lost and homeless got to him. Leo knew how much he believed in him. And Mikey knew that he'd do anything to keep him safe.

Before Mikey could even finish being conflicted, the Shredder ordered Leo to stand on the opposite side of the room. Defiance glowed in Leo's eyes like burning embers for an instant, then it faded and he climbed to his feet, bowed his head deferentially, and moved across the floor. As he moved, the Shredder turned, his gaze following him, so Mikey saw the cord of leather clutched in his hands first.

The fear struck him like hot iron in his chest. Whether it was for him or Leo, it didn't matter. That whip wasn't for show. He opened his mouth to warn Leo, Leo who was looking at him confused and frightened because he didn't know why Mikey looked so scared, Leo who was already moving to run to his side. Then chains sprang from the floor, shackles wrapped around his ankles and wrists, dragging him back down to his knees. "Master," Leo gasped, "what is this? What are you doing?"

"This is your punishment, Leonardo." The Shredder said simply. "A true ninja kills his heart. This is a lesson you and your brother must learn. And as your sensei," the whip came out from behind his back and blue eyes shrank to pinpricks, "I am bound to teach it to you."

Mikey shot to his feet, lunging forward to free his brother, and quickly found himself airborn. It didn't last more than a breath, though, because the Shredder slammed him down on the tile, then followed the blow by stepping on his shell with a heavy armored foot.

From across the room, Leo raged and writhed and fought, the chains clanging as he strained against them. "DON'T TOUCH HIM!"

The first strike of the whip barely hurt. It was loud, though, and Mikey ended up shouting more out of shock than anything.

The third strike hurt a little. The whip sent flecks of shell through the air now. Distantly, Mikey wondered what it looked like.

Seven strikes.

Twelve.

Mikey swallowed a scream the first time lightning hit his back. He wanted to reassure Leo, wanted to tell him that it'd be over soon, to smile like everything was going to be alright, especially since Leo was looking at him like his entire world was ending. But when he opened his mouth to tell him, the scream he'd swallowed came back up.

Eventually, the sound of the whip came to a halt. Mikey had his eyes closed, barely conscious but holding on. There was a metallic click as the shackles around Leo snapped open and he fell forward, sobbing so hard his chest ached.

It was just to the two of them now. He ran to his little brother, stumbling and tripping over himself as though he'd forgotten how to walk, and gathered him into his arms. "Mikey?"

Mikey heard the way Leo whimpered his name and urged his eyes to open, begged himself to move. He was almost as surprised as Leo was when he actually managed it.

Mikey opened his eyes, the ghost of a smile on his face as he patted his older brother feebly, trying to tell him without words that he was fine – or would be, at any rate – and Leo made a choking little sputtering sound as he pressed his forehead against his little brother's and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Mikey. I never meant for this to happen."

Closing his eyes, Mikey wordlessly returned the pressure, trying to tell Leo that it wasn't his fault, that he literally didn't blame him at all. But whether Leo understood or not, Mikey wasn't awake long enough to find out.

The darkness lurking behind his eyelids reared up, dragging him into sleep, and the next time he woke up he was in bed, his shell cleaned and bandaged. And the Leo he remembered – the kind of lame one that liked to practice his rousing speeches in the mirror and tickle him in the morning - was gone.


	4. Into The Dark

_"Mikey, look at me. We're gonna get through this, okay? _ and _ will come find us. They're looking for us right now." Leo looked scared. Was that normal? It didn't feel normal. It felt wrong, but Mikey couldn't remember why. There were people in weird costumes holding the turtle – No! That wasn't right! – holding Leo by the arms and he had to shout over the whir of the machine circling around Mikey's head to be heard. "Don't forget me, okay? Don't you dare forget me, Michelangelo."_

_Michelangelo. That was his name, wasn't it? It was important that he didn't forget. Someone he loved had given it to him. Someone who called him Michelangelo._

_Leo sounded like he was choking a little. A wet, violent noise bursting out of him as he stood on land and tried not to drown. Mikey wondered if the weird people in the bug costumes were hurting him. Anger burned in his chest, hot against the cool white metal he was lying on. He strained at the restraints strapped over his wrists and ankles, ready to lunge at whoever was making his older brother sound like that. Then the machine picked up speed, and it took all of his focus just to remember to breath._

_"Leo," he gasped, every ounce of him reaching for the dull roar of his brother's voice, "I don't know who _ and _ are. A-are they friends of yours?" His head felt heavy, like it was made of solid concrete, but he managed to lift it a few inches off the flat surface he was strapped to and see the exact moment when his brother stopped fighting._

_"It's okay." Leo shrugged off the men holding him, and they let him go, certain now that he wasn't going to interfere or run away. He reached out for his arm as the machine finally slowed to a halt and Mike upper body gradually came into view as the platform retracted. Not sure if his little brother even knew him anymore, Leo gently gripped his wrist, careful to speak softly so he didn't scare him. "It's okay, Mikey. I won't forget you. I'll remember for the both of us."_

_Overlooking the two of them, a man covered entirely in armor chuckled darkly. "Yes. Now that Hamato Yoshi has taken my daughter from me, I will- BEEP BEEP!"_

 

Mikey snapped awake, the weird dream he'd been having already fading, then bashed the snooze button on the alarm clock until the beeping abruptly cut off and the room once again fell into an almost just as irritating silence.

There was a terrible sense that he'd forgotten something important, something he absolutely had to remember. But that feeling wasn't exactly new, anymore. He'd been waking up with it ever since he met the two ninja in the pharmacy. Chasing the dream always felt like trying to stand on a cloud. He passed through it, falling fast. The only solid thing he had to cling to was an imprint of fear, the sort that made you feel cold no matter how many blankets you wrapped around yourself.

On the other hand, it did remind him of one thing he could take comfort in. When he'd first woken up, he hadn't even known his own name. He'd known Leo's. And Leo was the first to call him Mikey. They hadn't known their own names, but they'd known each other's, and that was why when Leo blurted out – fast like he was afraid he'd forget - that they were brothers, he'd believed him. It wasn't that he'd wanted to or tried to. Believing they were brothers had been as quick and easy as turning on a light.

There was a time when he'd crawl into Leo's bed, and Leo would wrap an arm around him; filling the cold emptiness the memories had left behind with the steady sound of his breathing and the cool touch of his skin.

Lately, though, Leo was the one waking up in the middle of the night. Except instead of quietly crying the way Mikey used to, he woke up screaming. Fists clenched and arms flailing, Mikey had taken a punch or two just trying to calm him down. It was always accidental and he never blamed Leo for it, but he did learn that just throwing a pillow at his brother was a safer and more effective method of calming Leo down.

After their punishment, Leo doubled his training schedule, ostensibly to give Mikey a weeklong break so the gashes in his shell could heal a little before he was thrown back to the wolves… and the fishes. The only problem was Mike had been back on his feet and attending practices for two weeks now, but Leo's private sessions with the Shredder never let up.

His bed was empty when Michelangelo opened his eyes in the morning. It was empty when he closed his eyes at night. It was empty now.

For a while, Mikey just stared at the perfectly made bed, hating it. There was nothing of him or Leo in the room, no posters or photographs or comic books or toys. There were some clothes and weapons, but nothing they couldn't carry on their backs. If one of them disappeared, the room would barely change. It'd be like they'd never lived in it.

Without wrinkled sheets or the imprint of a body in the mattress, it was harder to for him to believe that Leo was coming back.

 

_"Hajime."_

Two weeks of sparring without Leo had taught Michelangelo how to watch his own shell. Knowing he'd never match Xever or Rahzar in strength, he focused on speed. If they couldn't catch him, they couldn't hurt him. It was as simple as that.

Sometimes, he left openings. He'd leave his shell unguarded, experience teaching him that neither of his opponents could resist tearing into the slowly healing gouges in his carapace. That was when he was closest to winning.

By pretending to make sloppy mistakes, he could predict where they'd be in a few seconds time and have a nunchuck ready and waiting for them. The problem he kept running into was neither of his opponents tended to stay down to for long. If he could take them on one at time, he might have had a decent chance at winning.

After so many times of running through this spar and getting his shell handed to him, his signature taunting had died down to a weak trickle. Though, if anything, the decrease made the few that came out of his mouth all the more effective.

He'd chosen to let Xever and Rahzar make the first move this time. Focusing on keeping out of reach as long as possible, he made no move to engage either of them, looking instead for holes in their teamwork, weaknesses he could exploit.

Xever's tail shot out like a scorpion, forcing him to twist mid-step. The moment's break in his concentration gave Rahzar all the time he needed to wrap a clawed hand around his throat and lift him off the ground.

"Did you ever think," MIkey wheezed, knowing he'd lost but desperate to get the last word in, "that the reason Master Shredder has you two fight me at the same time is because he knows you'd lose if you actually faced me in a fair fight?"

With a snarl, Rahzar increased the pressue, cutting off Mikey's windpipe. Panicking, he scratched frantically at the claws around his neck, all the while knowing that Leo was in the room, watching passively, doing nothing.

The Shredder raised a hand. _"Yame._ That is enough, Bradford. Release him."

After muttering quietly under his breath, "Do I have to?" Rahzar let the young turtle in his grasp fall. Mikey coughed and sputtered, frustration and humiliation joining with something new and hard inside him. He tried to catch his brother's eye, hoping he'd see something there that'd explain why Leo nearly let him die.

Unfortunately, Leo 2.0 refused to give him even that. Rather than look at his little brother, he stoically faced the wall.

If this kept up, Mikey was going to request that Leo be made his next sparring partner. "Michelangelo!" He glanced up, startled to see the Shredder looming over him. "This is your last warning, Michelangelo. By choosing to join my clan, you have chosen the lifestyle of a ninja. And ninja," cool metal touched Mikey's shoulder, making him shiver. He was too distracted to notice the way his brother also tensed at the touch, "do not fight fair." In a louder voice, a voice meant for everyone in the dojo, he boomed, "Ninja fight to win. And if you cannot do that, Michelangelo," the pseudo-regret in his dark eyes froze the breath in Mikey's lungs, "then I will be forced to either let you go… or see if punishing you the way I punished your brother will result in the same improvement."

_Not Leo._

If he weren't already kneeling on the dojo floor, he'd have fallen. Then something slid over his eyes, a film that both distanced him and made everything clearer. With a pop, the kusarigama snapped out of his nunchaku and the chains combined, giving him more reach and flexibility.

He hadn't wanted to hurt Rahzar or Xever, no matter how much they seemed to want to hurt him. But, like the Master said, ninja fight to win.

And it was time to stop holding back.

His opponents laughed as he climbed to his feet, entering an offensive stance. It wasn't until the Shredder announced, "Hajime," and Michelangelo blurred into motion that they realized something had changed.

Drawn out fights allowed time for mistakes, it gave the enemy time to plan, and when he absolutely couldn't afford to lose, time was the enemy. So he shot at Xever like he'd been launched from a canon, slicing his mechanical legs at the joints. Then he sideswiped the broken halves out from under him and severed the orange tubes running across his back.

The tubes flailed wildly, spraying water into the air, until the pressure tapered down to a slow trickle that ran over the fish mutant's scales and joined the growing puddle on the floor. Xever flopped on his side, drowning in air, his gills and lungs heaving as they desperately tried to replenish the oxygen in his blood with oxygen he couldn't absorb.

He'd only taken a few breaths, only been without his source of fresh water for a few seconds, but it was already killing him.

Horrified, Mikey backed away, Xever's poisonous yellow eyes never leaving him. They darted to the blade in his hands, then back to Michelangelo, and what Mikey saw in one of his two favorite tormentors made him sick.

Laying on the floor, dying and helpless, Xever was afraid of him. And it should have been extremely satisfying to watch.

But it was the worst feeling in the world.

Just as he opened his mouth to beg for a doctor or a vet, the Shredder stepped forward. "Yame!"

Beside him, Leo looked like he was about to jump out of shell. Mikey turned his head to see Rahzar's claws inches from the unprotected nape of his neck and gulped, a drop of sweat sliding down his cheek. _Guess he really wasn't exaggerating all those times he threatened to rip my spine out._

"Uh, down boy?" The frightened squeak in his voice wrecked the attempt at bravado.

Like a lion deprived of its prey, Rahzar stepped back, his bony fingers grazing the back of Mikey's neck, lingering a little before he snarled, "One more dog joke, turtle. Just. One. More."

Oh? Really? Just one? Because, doggone it, he had about a dozen-

No, wait; there wasn't enough time for that. If Rahzar wanted to fight him, they'd have to do it later. Mikey lowered his weapons, stepping out of the defensive position he'd unconsciously slipped into. "Master Shredder, Xever's dying." At his name, Xever hissed, his eyes twitching towards the back of his head, his fins flapping weakly.

The Shredder nodded his approval, "You are correct, Michelangelo. It seems that, given the proper motivation, you can disable one of my best officers in seconds." It was the closest to praise Mikey had ever heard from their master – or anyone – for as long as he could remember. Considering everything that had happened, it shouldn't have made him the slightest bit happy. Regrettably, he couldn't tear out and burn the small part that was. "However, now that you have defeated him in combat, it is no longer up to me whether he lives or dies."

A weight settled over Mikey's shoulders. Leo hadn't been any help in weeks. Chances were good that wasn't going to change, so that left the choice up to him.

Did he want Xever to die?

If he let him live, he'd only attack him again. With at least Xever gone, he'd stand a chance against Rahzar. And maybe if the Shredder stopped thinking of him as such a disappointment, he'd get to spend time with Leo again.

_A true ninja kills his heart._

Xever's eyes closed, his head lolling back as what was left of his strength dried up. And no matter what he'd done or what he was going to do, no matter what the consequences would be, Michelangelo realized he couldn't just watch him die.

Briefly, he wondered if Leo could. If Leo were standing in his place, would he just let Xever die? It was a question he'd thought he'd known the answer to, but there was one thing he knew for certain: The Leo he looked up to wouldn't have.

He laughed a little, a hysterical giggle bubbling out of him, then wiped his eyes and said in a low, broken tone that made it clear how much the heart he couldn't kill was breaking, "Master… I don't want this."

The Shredder gave another nod, what could be seen of his face unreadable, and called for Foot soldiers to take Xever and dump him into the tank by the lab, where he'd stay until Dr. Stockman finished repairing his gear. Rahzar watched him go dispassionately, leaving Mikey to wonder how they could possibly coordinate so well as a team without feeling even the slightest bit of attachment to each other. Wasn't that lonely?

Once Xever was dragged out of sight, the training was cut short. Instead of asking Leo to go to lunch with him like usual, Mikey turned to go. He was already halfway to the doors by the time Leo caught up with him.

"Hey, Mikey?" Mikey continued walking, keeping his eyes off his brother. It was only when Leo grabbed him by the elbow and forced him to look at him that he stopped. "Aren't you going to ask me to go to lunch with you?"

"I've done that every day for two weeks, Leo. Are you telling me the answer's different today?" Giving in to the small spark of hope burning in his chest, a dim but steadily growing light entered his eyes. "Because, if it is, of course I-" Leo shook his head.

"It's not that I can, Mikey. I was just wondering why you decided not to ask me."

Blue eyes shuttered, narrowing into dull slits in a round face, and Leo noted the change with dismay. Without another word, Mikey wrenched his arm away, withdrawing deeper into himself and half-remembered things.

"Leonardo," the Shredder reprimanded as he approached them, "It is rude to initiate contact outside of a spar."

Leo stiffened, something dark and foreign flitting across his face too fast for Mikey to catch. He bowed his head. "My apologies, Michelangelo. I overstepped my boundaries."

If it had been days ago, he might have run out crying, with or without the Shredder watching. If it had been an hour ago, he might have been angry, frustrated. He might have yelled a little, demanded answers for why Leo was acting so weird, why he had to spend every day alone, why the one ninja in the entire clan who'd sworn to always have his back had ditched him.

When Rahzar and Xever had told him he was unnecessary, a phase Leo would outgrow, he'd comforted himself with knowing that Leo needed him- had needed him.

Actually, strike that. Leo still needed him. He didn't belong in the Foot Clan. Neither of them did. And when Leo finally realized that, Michelangelo would be there. For two entire months, they'd trusted nobody but each other. That had to still count for something, right?

After shooting off a quick, jerky nod, Mike pivoted on his heel, pushed open the doors, and walked out.

 

Something really weird was going on.

More and more Foot-bots were marching through the hallways with chunks of their torsos and limbs missing, and that was only the Foot-bots that made it back. The Foot soldiers sitting at the cafeteria tables around him sported bruised jaws, bruised egos, and quite a few broken bones.

Moving his fork absently in his mashed potatoes and peas, Mike listened; his ears open for any possible mention of two turtles in masks. It would have been easier if his fellow ninja stopped cupping their mouths and speaking in hushed tones specifically so he couldn't hear them, but that just made him more certain that they were talking about his maybe brothers.

_Plus, if anyone can bust their way here through an entire army of Foot,_ Mikey thought with sudden certainty, _it'd be Raph and D-_

D? Where had that come from? Was it short for something? Like a nickname?

Brow furrowed, Mikey tried to think back to the train of thought he'd been on. It felt like he trying to push past a concrete wall with his bare hands, but he was sure that he if he just concentrated…

There was a noise, like wings flapping and water rattling in lungs, and Mikey leapt out of his seat, narrowly dodging the green acid that dissolved his food and ate a hole through the bench he'd been sitting on.

Nunchucks spinning, he found himself glaring at the grossest looking mutant he'd ever run into. A thousand eyes stared back at him.

It – he? – sported the proportional wing span of a housefly, which may have not been much on a normal bug but it was a lot on a bug the size of a human. Antennas twitched around a mouth that dripped acidic saliva, and Mikey found himself being jabbed in the chest with a two-fingered claw. "You i-ingate," the fly mutant buzzed at him, "do y-you have a-any i-i-idea how loooong it t-took me t-to make thossse prostheticsss?"

Was he talking about Xever? Shell, he was, wasn't he? And did he bother to ask why Mikey had cut up Fishface's robo-legs? No. Of course not.

Slapping the hand away, Michelangelo snapped, "Look, if you have a problem with me, get in line. Right now, it's only," gesturing widely, he finished with a frustrated shout, "everyone here!" The cafeteria answered in kind.

"Shut up!"

"Can't you see we're trying to eat here, freak?!"

"If you hate it here so much, leave. No one wants you here, anyway."

Mikey whirled on them. "You guys got a problem with me? Come over here and say it to my face!" Entire tables of Foot soldiers, most of them bearing signs of a fight, stood up and drew their weapons. Apparently, they had a quite a few problems they wished to discuss.

"I may b-be nooo experrrt on sssocial s-subtletiesss, Miiichelangeloo, b-but it m-might b-be bessst if youuu l-left now."

"You think I don't want to?!"

Grumbling under his breath, he began to walk away, but he felt a little bad for snapping at the weird fly guy, who'd calmed down enough that his irritated buzzing had dulled to an almost sympathetic drone, so he stopped and managed a quiet _sorry._ Apologies being few and far between in the Foot Clan, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say the humanoid insect was a little touched. The air was starting to get so tense with killing intent that it was hard to breath, but since Mike didn't know when he'd be seeing the fly man again, he went ahead and blurted, "You're Dr. Stockman, right?" At a nod from the fly mutant in the pink sweater, he continued tentatively, "Is, uh, is Xever going to be okay?"

"He'sss fiiine. W-we got hiiim in the t-tank in tiiime."

Smiling faintly, Mikey muttered, "Okay. That's good." A kunai flew threw the air, whistling past his cheek. Following the trajectory, Mikey glowered at a new recruit until the teen stumbled back into his group, then turned his attention back to the doctor, feeling both uncertain about whether the strange mutant could be trusted and grateful all the same. "Thanks doc."

"G-get oout offf h-here." The Shredder may have warned his men against killing his star pupil's younger brother, but it was amazing what you could live through.

Knowing he was running out of time fast, Mikey bolted towards the exit. Except one of the Foot ninja decided to show off for his buddies and stuck his foot out, catching Mikey's ankles and sending him tumbling out the doors. The momentum of the fall carried him until he crashed head first into the wall outside.

"Right," he muttered as he gingerly rubbed the tender spot at the top of his skull, "so maybe drawing attention to myself was a bad idea. Maybe I shouldn't try shouting at the top of my lungs around hungry Foot soldiers again."

If that was his lesson for the day, though, he wanted a different teacher.

 

After passing by yet another returning squad of broken Foot-bots and injured men, Michelangelo finally found himself standing in his own room, staring at an empty bed.

Just like it'd been that morning, it was perfectly made. And it was the straw that broke the turtle's back.

Screaming, Mikey tore the sheets off the bed, throwing them to the ground where he trampled all over them in his rush to grab the pillow and bash it against the wall. Every punch, every kick, every taunt, every snap of the whip he'd never stop hearing, every time Leo turned away - he pounded them into the pillow until the fabric tore and feathers burst from it.

Then he tossed it over his shoulder, buried his head into Leo's mattress, and sobbed until his throat ached.


	5. Into The Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday - FOB_

A few hours past midnight, the door opened with a low whine. A soundless shadow slipped into the room, its movements a little stiff thanks to the series of long practices and short recoveries it'd been forced to endure. The figure paused at his bed, staring sadly at the curled up form on his mattress. Suppressing a groan when his back muscles protested, the figure bent to pick up the sheets strewn across the floor, gently placing them over his little brother.

He stroked his head, pulling back as though stung when his little brother shifted, mumbling in his sleep. It wasn't safe for him to realize how much he still cared. That night, Leo slept in a different bed, and was gone before the sun rose but, hopefully, when his little brother opened his eyes, he'd realize that he wasn't as alone as he thought.

And if Mikey hadn't kicked off the sheets, he might have.

 

The next day brought the two turtles their next mission. Similar to the first mission, Mike's role was to watch the surrounding buildings at the docks and sound the alert if anyone suspicious showed up. Figuring he could multi-task, he found a long stick, tied a plastic string to the end, and watched the fish come up to the dock so they nibble at the bait he didn't have.

Welcome to the harsh realities of life, fish.

"Mikey!" Michelangelo flinched at the reprimand, a sheepish grin already plastered on his face as he turned to see his brother standing behind him, arms folded and foot tapping.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Captain Kiss-Up? Did you finally decide to remember I exist?"

Rolling his eyes, Leo retorted, "We're on a mission, Mi-"

"Michelangelo," Mikey said quickly, ignoring the flash of hurt on his brother's face, even if seeing it made him feel like sea slime. "It's Michelangelo now, right?"

Clearing his throat, Leo's voice lost its familiarity. "We're on a mission now, Michelangelo. The Shredder ordered you to stake out the warehouse, so don't embarrass me and do your job."

The thing was, Michelangelo was no longer in the mood to listen to the Shredder or his brother. He'd passed passive-aggressive some time ago and was now firmly placed in aggressive-aggressive. "What does it look like I'm doing, Leo?" Lifting up his fishing pole, he added with a wry twist of his mouth, "I'm undercover, bro."

"As what?" Leo scoffed. "A slacker?"

"Dude, shhhh." Mikey replied with a roll of his eyes and a razor sharp edge. "You'll give away my secret identity." Anyone who knew him knew that this was what he did when there were negative emotions hollowing him out from the inside that he didn't quite know how to deal with. It was frustrating that they were there at all. He didn't want to be angry or bitter. It was just, with Leo staring right at him, he didn't know how not to be.

Turning back to his fishing pole, he tried to sound a little less like he was trying to pick a fight when he asked, "And what about you? Shouldn't you be helping Xever and Rahzar load up the mutagen?" Not that I care. Why should I care? I've been doing great by myself. The Shredder had separated them on purpose. Not even the fight Mikey managed to put up against Xever had convinced him that slowly divorcing them from each other was a bad idea. Most likely, it had less to do with Mikey's fighting skills and everything to do with his refusal to let his opponent die.

Rubbing the bridge between his eyes, Leo said, "Why can't you understand that I'm just trying to protect you? If the Shredder-"

"That's the second time," Mikey muttered, blue eyes flashing. "That's the second time I've heard you leave out the 'master' part."

"If it's just you and me, Mike," Mikey didn't bother to correct him this time, "I don't have to be Captain Kiss Up." Giving him a hard look, Mikey searched for some sort of deception, but Leo was looking at him all innocent and honest and Mikey knew he was anything but innocent… but…

"Leo." His shoulders sagged, "I miss you, bro."

Noting the present tense, Leo replied, "I miss you, too, otouto." Then he hardened, the traces of the real Leo Mikey had been so relieved to see burying themselves under the cold mask his face froze into. "But I can't leave yet. I'm owe the Shredder a debt. I won't leave until I've repaid it."

It took every ounce of self-control Mikey had not to reach out and shake him. "This is about honor?" Voice rising hysterically, he dropped his fishing pole, stood up, and yelled, "This is about your stupid honor?! "

"It's not about that!" Leo shouted back.

"Then what is it about? Come on, Leo, you used to trust me with stuff like this." Fists clenched at his sides, Mikey asked, "Is this because I failed the first mission? Is that why you don't want to hang out with me, anymore?"

Leo rocked back, the words achieving the same effect a punch to the face would have. "What? No! Is that really what you think, Mikey?"

"I don't know what else to think, Leo. You haven't talked to me since…" The sound of a whip filled Mikey's ears as his eyes picked out the pink, bracelet sized patches of scarred skin his brother's attempts to help him had left behind. Suddenly exhausted and frayed around the edges, Mikey slumped, asking in a small voice, "Why are we still here, Leo?"

If he had a good reason, maybe Mikey could finally tell him about the turtles from the pharmacy. About the injured men and the missing Foot- bots. And they could all join up. They could leave the Foot together. They could even maybe be a family.

Then Mikey wouldn't have to feel so lonely, anymore.

"I already told you why, Michelangelo," came Leo's cold response. "I have a debt to pay."

Mikey straightened; crushing the hope that had once again taken root inside him, and mentally took five steps back. "Okay. Master Shredder," man, that was going to be a hard habit to break, "can't punish me if there's nothing to punish me for, right? When the time comes, I'll sound the alarm like a good Foot. So just get back to where you're supposed to be before you get in trouble."

Leo may have been acting like he was missing half his brain, but that didn't mean Mikey wanted something bad to happen to him. It just meant that he wasn't going to tell them that there were two green-skinned ninja watching them from the roof, or that they'd been there for the past fifteen minutes.

Once Leo was gone and Mikey was sure he was out of earshot, he picked up his wooden fishing pole and sat down, his legs dangling over the edge of the dock.

"I know you're are up there." Feeling nervous and giddy and so excited he could barely sit still, he snickered, "I've been watching your reflections in the water for ages."

 

His plastron pressing against the sheets of metal nailed to the roof of the warehouse he and Don were using to scout or do reconnaissance or whatever it was you called spying on your brothers when you were pretty sure they were brainwashed, Raph lowered his binoculars, his mouth gaping. "Did he just-"

"Yeah. I think he did." Don chuckled, more than a little proud of his younger brother. Mike had always been the best at Hide & Seek, but his observational skills had never seemed to watch those of his brothers, likely because he relied so much on their skills that he never truly felt the need to practice his own.

Shame they had the Shredder to thank for his sudden improvement.

"AH!" Don whipped around to follow Raph's line of sight.

"What? Did something happen? Is Mikey alright?"

Raph shook his head. "Man, I was afraid of this."

Verging on a full-blown panic, Don snapped, "What?!" The need for whisper-shouting wasn't exactly pivotal now that their cover had been blown, but shouting in Foot Clan territory was also never a good idea. He looked down to see Mike with a frustrated little pout on his face, his arms crossed and his foot tapping like they were keeping him waiting.

"He's been hanging out with Leo for too long," Raph finally said. Beside him, Don strangled his own imagined version of the heart attack extraordinaire. Don hadn't realized it before he and Mikey went missing, but Leo was actually a saint. Since he'd been dealing with Raph and Casey, sometimes both at the same time, with only April's occasional back-up (though she was extremely affective at keeping them in line) he was pretty sure that he'd shaved about twenty years off of life and that ninety-percent of his precious brain cells had shriveled up from lack of stimulation and died.

Plus, Leo was the one who usually made sure they got all their vitamins and Mikey was the best cook. Living on fast food and microwavable meals had done wonders for his homicidal urges.

Now that they'd found their brothers, he'd finally be able to put those urges to good use.

Once he calmed down a little from the scare – that Raph had definitely done entirely on purpose - Don muttered, "Shouldn't you be more worried about him hanging out with the Shredder all this time?"

"Nah," Raph said as he leapt down, the movement hopefully keeping his sibling from seeing the way his muscles tensed at the question, "he doesn't have enough brain to be brainwashed."

"I heard that!" Mikey called as he ran over, bare feet crunching in the gravel as he made no attempt to hide his presence, too exuberant and eager to even try. It was so normal that Raph let himself believe that things could snap right back to the way they were. Then his little brother stopped five paces back, eyes darting over him and Donnie with a wary caution and years he hadn't carried before, and Raph just wanted to grab the closest target in range and punch a hole in it.

Noticing his expression, Donnie, who had taken it upon himself to keep him from imploding over the last few months, squeezed his shoulder. "I get it. Believe me, Raph, I get it. But we need to convince him to come with us. Losing our tempers now will just drive him away."

It was like listening to a broken record. _Raph, stay calm. Raph, be patient. Raph, we'll find them._ Maybe he'd needed to hear the first two twelve times a day, every day, but the last one was unnecessary. There had never been a single doubt in his mind that they'd find their brothers. It was only a question of when.

"So," Mike canted his head, one hand nervously plucking at his hoodie, "I've been wondering for a while because you said you were looking for your brothers and I don't remember having brothers but you seemed to recognize me and we're all mutant turtles and there probably aren't too many of those in New York," there was a short pause as he gulped for breath, feeling a little like he wanted to bury himself in a hole in the ground because he'd thought this over so many times but the other two ninja were just staring at him and what would he do if this was all just one big misunderstanding , "so are you my- oof."

Forgetting plans and formulas, Don rushed forward, gathering his little brother in his arms and stealing his breath away. "Yes," he whispered, so low Mikey wouldn't have heard him if he wasn't laying his head on shoulder, "we're your brothers, Michelangelo. We've been looking for you this whole time."

Swallowing and struggling to keep the wetness in his eyes from overflowing, Mikey hesitantly put his arms around the taller turtle's shell, his thoughts shifting wildly between concern for the strange ninja wrapped around him and general confusion. "Where were you, though? If you were looking so hard, why did the Shredder find us first?"

"We didn't know you were in the Foot Clan." Raph said softly. "Then when we found out, we never stopped trying to break in." Looking suddenly fragile, he asked, "You and Leo really don't remember us? Not even a little?"

If there was even a spark of recognition, he could tell himself that everything was going to be okay and really believe it. They'd be playing video games in front of the TV and eating pizza in the kitchen in no time.

Mike stared at them both, wondering if he could finally take all that trust bottled up inside him and put it where it wouldn't be used against him. The longer he spent with the two strange ninja, the more they stopped being that and started feeling like his brothers. He fit with them. He fit with them the way he fit with Leo. There had always been something missing, like he was moving without two of his arms or two of his legs or one of his lungs. Now it felt like he was finally mostly whole again.

The only thing missing was Leo.

So when Donnie sniffed, his long arms gently unwrapping themselves from around his shell, Mike realized that whether he remembered them or not, they were already his brothers.

In answer to Raph's question, he shook his head, then hurried on to say, "But we feel right, ya know? I don't have to remember you to know you're my brothers."

And that helped a little. Raph looked a little less like he was coming apart at the seams and Donnie looked a little less… soggy.

"That's great and all," Raph huffed, pointedly looking away so Mikey couldn't see just how happy he was, "but Leo's not as trusting as you. What are we supposed to do about him?"

Upon hearing the need for a plan, Don hardened up, making the transition from stressed out sibling to battle ready warrior and strategist in record time. "Even with Mikey, we're in no condition to take on Razar, Xever, and possibly Leo by ourselves."

"You sayin' we leave him here? Don, that ain't gonna fly- Mike!." Michelangelo, who'd begun slowly edging away, stiffened as Raph's attention snapped to him, "Would ya get rid of that hoodie? It's making me itch just lookin' at ya."

_Wow,_ Mikey mouthed. "Actually, that's a really bad idea. Like super bad." Sweat dripped down his cheek. The hoodie was on for a reason and he wasn't taking it off. He'd take the mask off if they asked, though that probably wouldn't be a good idea either in Foot Clan territory, but if these guys were as overprotective as Leo used to be – and probably still was - then taking off the hoodie was just a recipe for disaster. Like mixing pizza and broccoli.

Instantly alert, Don ordered Raph to hold Mikey while he pulled the hoodie off him. Since they didn't seem to be in the mood for anymore talking now that they knew he was hiding something, Mikey tried to run to the water, except the older turtle had started moving before he did and proved to be even stronger than Leo. Not stronger than Rahzar, though.

While Mike struggled, Raph passed Don a sai so he could just cut through the back of the hoodie, rather than possibly aggravate any injuries their little brother may have sustained while training with the Foot Clan. "Hey, aren't you guys supposed to be the good guys? Isn't manhandling usually something the bad guys do?"

"Quiet, Mike. I'm almost…" Donnie trailed off, not sure what to make of the dozens of scars decorating their little brother's shell. To the Hamato brothers, every scar one of them received from combat was a failure. When their formation was perfect, no one was supposed to get hurt, so if one of them was, it meant someone wasn't where they were supposed to be, wasn't fast enough, wasn't strong enough.

Tossing the torn fabric aside, Donatello whispered, "Mikey… did they _torture_ you?"

Frustrated by the question, Mike shouted a denial on reflex. "What? No! Of course not!"

"Then what do you call this, shell-for-brains?" Raph growled, barely even thinking straight now that he had a full view of his little brother's back. Then he noticed the small scar above his little brother's eyes and demanded that he tell him everything that happened.

Instead of answering, Mikey kicked backwards, jamming Raph's knee, twisting away when his older brother grunted from the shock of the sudden pain and loosened his grip. "What's wrong with you guys?" Empty palms facing upward, Mike struggled to make sense of why their meeting seemed to be going downhill so quickly. Sure, he'd been angry when the Shredder whipped him, but, "Doesn't your Sensei punish you, too?"

The blood drained from both of his brother's faces. Don clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide and glazed like he was fighting the urge to vomit. The thought of Master Splinter hurting them like the Shredder had hurt their little brother was inconceivable, the horrible sort of fear that belonged only in nightmares. Yet the Shredder had twisted their little brother into thinking that was something normal, maybe even deserved.

"No, he doesn't, Mike." Don tried to compartmentalize. Whatever feelings could help him now were acceptable, everything else had to be locked in a box for later. If the situation required him to be as cool and unfeeling as the robots he created, then – so help him – he'd turn his heart and soul to steel. "When you meet him, you'll see that the way the Shredder treated you and Leo was wrong." He turned to Raph, pausing when he got a clear view of the murderous expression on his face.

Where Leo was a snowstorm on his worst days, burying you up to your knees before you even realized the danger, Raphael was a volcano. There were shakes, warnings, ash filling the sky, and then a rage as unmistakable as it was unavoidable. Now, he took all those feelings, the flames that usually fueled him, and pressed them together, creating something unbreakable.

"Don," he growled, sais drawn and gleaming in the sunlight, "take him home. When I'm through with Shred-head, he's gonna need a body bag."

"The only way you're going to kill the Shredder is if you find a way to resurrect him after I'm through with him." Though he'd meant what he said, Donnie still pulled his bo from his back, fully prepared to knock out his little brother if that was what it took to ensure that the Shredder never laid another hand on him.

Seeing the weapon, Mikey's blue eyes went wide. "I'm not leaving without Leo. I'm not leaving him alone with the Foot." Shaking his head with disbelief, he backed away, aiming to get close enough to the harbor that he could jump in and regroup with Leo. Alerting the Foot with a scream or a shout was still an option, but even though his brothers wanted to take him away by force, it sounded like they just wanted to protect him. The same way the thought of seeing Leo hurt had been a far worse torture than the whip had ever been, so was the thought of seeing something bad happen to Raph or Donnie. "You two have each other." Don was gaining on him now, using Mikey's own hesitance to close the distance. "If I'm not around, who does Leo have?"

It didn't matter if Leo abandoned him or if they fought. It didn't even matter if he forgot him or turned into a toad or grew two heads. He was Mikey's big brother. Without Leo, he wasn't going anywhere.

Of course, Donnie begged to disagree. "Sorry, Mikey," he aimed the bo at his little brother's head, attempting to apply just enough pressure that no permanent damage would occur due to blunt force, but Mike danced to the side at the last possible second, the bo landing instead on his shoulder with a crack.

Numbness spread through his left arm as he bit down on a shout, still resolved not to give his brother's presence away to Rahzar or Xever. Don lifted his bo into a resting position, bringing it close to his chest as he sputtered apologies while Mike mustered up a little lopsided grin to show he was alright, the accidental blow already forgiven.

Leo, who'd overheard the commotion despite their best efforts, ran into sight with Xever trailing him, his katanas drawn and his nictitating eyelids covering his irises. The first thing he saw was two ninja, both turtles like him, with their weapons drawn, and Michelangelo holding his shoulder, the hoodie he was wearing in two pieces on the ground.

"Leo," Mike said, jumping in before Donnie could, "I know this looks bad but-"

"Get away from them, Mikey."

Sighing, Mike replied, "See? This is exactly what I didn't want to happen." He and Donnie turned to stare at Raph, who loudly wonder why they were looking at him when he was only one who hadn't done anything wrong.

He barely even got the words out before Leo charged him, his katanas clashing so hard against his weapons that Raph actually felt himself being pushed back through the gravel. "Woah, Leo, calm down. We didn't mean to hurt him! We came here to rescue you!"

"And why should I believe you?" Leo hissed through his teeth, breaking off so he could rush forward to ram him again. But Leo could do better – Raph had sparred and fought with Leo his entire life and knew, better than anyone, just how great a ninja Leo was – so why was he holding back?

Raph countered a blow that would have sliced his side, dodged to the left, thrust his arms under Leo's, and pulled him against his plastron. Even with that, Leo still hand his swords in his hands, he could decapitate him if he really wanted to.

"Maybe because a part of you already does?" Betting on a hunch, he let Leo go. "I think you know something's not right, I think you know that the Shredder's been lying to ya this whole time and you want to take us to take Mikey away."

Not leaving his battle stance on the off chance Xever stopped trying to stab Donnie with his tail, Leo laughed weakly under his breath. "Yea, I was thinking something like that. I only got a glimpse of you at the pharmacy, but then you made such a good impression here, what with the way you basically cornered my little brother."

"Our little brother," corrected Raph, a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And, yeah, that looked pretty bad, didn't it?"

"I wanted to kill you." Leo stated simply.

"Well, now you know how I feel."

Leo blinked. "You wanted to kill me? When?"

Panicking slightly, Raph shook his hands like he was trying to wipe the air clean with them. Neither of them seemed too bothered with the fact that both Donnie and Mikey were keeping Xever occupied. "Not literally. Metaphorically, ya know? Like I kind of wanted to kill ya, but not really?"

"Aw," Don called out to them while Mike frowned in their direction, "you two are adorable." A stinger barely missed his face, forcing him to flip backwards and closer to the harbor so he could get some perspective. "Do you think you could come over here and help us now?"

A relieved grin on his face, Raph motioned for Leo to follow him. "Come on, let's take down Xever and go home."

Backing away, Leo shook his head, much to the confusion of his slightly volatile younger brother. "Sorry. The hand of justice hasn't been dealt yet."

"Seriously? You're still doing the Captain Ryan thing?"

Smirking, Leo replied, "Who the shell is Captain Ryan?" And Raph had just enough to realize the blow was coming before Leo smashed a flying kick into his jaw, propelling him off the pier and into the harbor.

A tinny scream came from the mountain of bubbles that erupted from the surface, _"Seriously?!"_

Taking a cue from Leo, Mikey shrugged an apology at Donatello, "Don't you dare," then maneuvered his chain with his good arm so it'd whip around Donnie's legs and trip him. Since he had more time and warning than Raph did, Don leapt to the side, hoping to dodge it, except Mikey had been trained to create a mental image of where his moving target would be in the blink of an eye and aim for that. It had a roughly fifty-fifty chance of working, considering Donatello could have moved in the opposite direction, so it was a gamble, but muscles said a lot. Certain muscles bunched in anticipation, knowing where the body was going to move before the mind had even fully decided which way it was going to go, telegraphing the future for those observant or trained enough to pay attention.

For Mike, it was necessity. Reading muscles and involuntary glances helped a lot when everyone you ran into seemed to want to use you as their personal green punching bag.

Once the chains were wrapped tightly around his brother's ankles, all it took was a hard pull on the kusarigama and Donatello went tumbling in after Raph.

"Michelangelo," Leo barked as he ran over to where his brother and Xever stood, "go after them before they get away."

Mike crossed his arms, making it clear that he wasn't going to move an inch. "Nah. They're long gone. I think I'm just gonna stay here."

"That's an order, Mike."

"Then I guess this here's a mutiny, Leo."

Groaning, Leo slapped a palm against his forehead. "You can't have a mutiny by yourself."

"Oh…" Scratching his head while Xever debated whether a future as a fried dinner would be preferable to his current company, Mikey wondered aloud, "Can I have a rebellion?"

"The answer's still 'No.' Probably even more 'No' than it was before."

"How 'bout a revolution?"

"Not even close."

"Well, this is fun," Xever cut in, "but which one of you wants to explain to Master Shredder how we let the turtles get away?" It was a fair question. One that would definitely need answering if any of them where to mention the turtles had shown up in the first place. As far as they knew, none of the mutagen had been tampered with and Rahzar knew nothing. Under the combined weight of the turtle siblings' glares, Xever continued, "I owe you a life debt, Michelangelo. In exchange for my silence, consider it paid."

Without pause, Mike agreed. "Deal." Then they watched as Xever stalked away, looking as cool as a talking fish on mechanical legs could.

Following a few steps behind him, Mikey grumbled under his breath, "Dude, isn't it great that Xever's such a fintastic guy? I mean, I save his life, he agrees not to tell on me, and now we're even. That makes sense."

"I could still change my mind, you know." Xever hissed over his shoulder. When he wasn't looking, Mikey stuck out his tongue.

"I don't know, Mike," Leo snorted, "I think you cod do much better when it comes to your friends. Maybe someone a little less shellfish?"

"I'm shore you do, but I'd rather have him as a friend than an anemone." As they laughed, nudging each other good naturedly, Leo caught a glimpse of Mike's wrist. Something blue and orange popped against the green of his skin, a fabric of some sort. When Mike turned to look at it, his mouth dropped open, his pupils dilating to the size of quarters. Suddenly, it felt like a hot iron was tearing into his brain, burning it, tearing it into pieces.

_"If you tell anyone, I'll beat the green off you! But, you're a really awesome guy."_

_"April. April. April,"_ said the floating Donnie head.

_"Don't scare me like that buddy, I thought we lost you!"_

_"April. April. April,"_ said the floating Donnie head.

_"No six foot tall cockroach is going to eat my brother!"_

_"April- Mike, would you cut it out?! I say plenty of other stuff! Why's Raph getting all the good lines, anyway?"_

_Well, maybe you should be nicer to me,_ Mikey thought at the disembodied Donnie head. And if he thought getting his memories back was agony, then that was probably because he forgot the earsplitting screech Donatello was capable of when he was mad.

Blinking, Mikey opened his eyes to see Leo bending over him, dark blood dripping from his nostrils. Curious, Mikey touched his own nose, pulling his fingers away to see the slick sheen of blood coating the tips. "You remembered, too?"

Leo nodded."Whatever the Shredder did to us," he grabbed youngest brother's hand, squeezing it in an attempt to reassure them both, and placed his other hand over their masks. Only Raph - that wonderful knucklehead - would have had the time and opportunity to tie them on without Mike noticing,"it wasn't supposed to come undone." And if they wanted to remember everything, not just bits and pieces and weird angry heads, they had to find out exactly what'd been done to them. Considering one of them had to keep the Shredder occupied, it meant they'd be separated again, but "We're leaving tonight, Mikey. Together. No matter what happens, we're going home. Our _real_ home," Leo had that look in his eyes.

And as long as he had that, they couldn't lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points to whoever caught the Winter Soldier reference. You get a virtual cookie. Enjoy.


	6. Into The Underground

Mikey babbled excitedly the entire way back. The farther they walked from the docks, the more the few memories they'd collected faded into the background, like a gossamer mist that parted when they reached for it. While Leo found that at little worrying, he had more important things to focus on, problems he knew the solutions to, and Mikey felt that the old memories paled in comparison to all the new ones they were surely going to make when they reunited with their brothers and finally found a home where they could feel safe. And if they really needed to jog their memories, the two masks were safely tucked in Mikey's shuriken pouch.

There was a possibility that the masks would have a few extra holes in them next time they were pulled out, but other than that they were completely safe from harm. Really.

"Where do you think they live, Leo? I hope it's somewhere with windows. And lots of fresh air. Hey, maybe they live outside!" A smile lit up Mikey's face as his brain filled with all the places that could possibly fulfill those requirements. Like a treehouse. Living in a treehouse with his brothers would be so amazing and so much better than concrete walls and air conditioning.

Now that they were nearly back at the Foot Clan's base, Leo was less jokey and more distracted, keeping his head high as he worked out how he'd handle his part of the plan in his head and how he'd handle any complications that could come up should something go wrong with Mikey's part of the plan. Worst case scenario: The Shredder found out they were planning on leaving and back-up never showed. He was counting on Raph and Donnie breaking in to rescue them sometime that afternoon. When that happened, they'd team up. But what if they never came?

Shoot, he should have passed a note or something.

After noticing the spot next to him had gotten unusually quiet, he swiveled his neck to see Mike staring at him, his mouth pressed into a concerned frown. "Sorry, Mike, What were you saying?"

Mikey huffed, pouting slightly at being ignored now that he knew Leo was just getting lost inside his head again. "I was saying, 'Where do you think Raph and Donnie live?' Do you think they live outside?" Leo pondered that. In his memories, he'd definitely seen rocks. Smooth stones, weathered by water or wind, that could mean they lived in a park or outside, except there weren't any parks where mutant turtles could just hang out without being seen. More than that, he remembered the way air touched his skin in that place, and it wasn't any sort of air that'd been warmed by the sun. It was humid, cool, not stagnant but not breezy either… A subway?

Looking down at his little brother with a small smile, Leo patted his head fondly. "Don't think about too much. They're clean, well-fed, and uninjured, so wherever they're living, it'll be perfect for us."

"But what if they live in a sewer or something? If you ask me…" The sight of the Foot Clan's headquarters rising into the clouds made him much more open to living in a sewer. It loomed over them like the monsters and giants children read about in their beds, the ones that made their victims feel so small before they picked them up and consumed them. Glittering in the last vestiges of the day's light, it looked positively wicked.

The only thing more frightening than the building that couldn't hurt him was the man who owned it.

Reluctantly, Mikey forced his feet to keep moving forward. Leo had traveled back into his own head - _must be a fun place_ \- so Mikey wasn't sure at first if Leo had actually spoken when he heard, "Do you think Raph and Don have a master?"

After thinking about it for a second, Mikey answered firmly, "I sure hope not." Keeping his voice low so only Leo could hear, he added, "I'm a little mastered out, to be honest."

Standing right in front of their soon-to-be former master's headquarters wasn't a good place for a detailed discussion on the matter, so Leo decided to let the subject lie for now. If they didn't have a master, then there wouldn't be any reason to bring it up again. If they did, though… Then maybe there was a reason he was so quick to trust the Shredder, so quick to look up to him and want to impress him. Any admiration he'd felt for the man had disintegrated after he saw the whip in his hands, but he couldn't help but beat himself up for having ever agreed to join the Foot Clan in the first place.

Fingers brushed Leo's hand; he started, turning his head quickly to see his little brother staring grimly ahead. "I hate this place." And Leo wanted nothing more than to tell him that he didn't have to go in, that he'd take care of everything himself, but Mikey fixed him with a hard look, reiterating as though he'd read his thoughts, "I'm not leaving without you."

 _Honestly,_ Leo thought to himself with a rueful smile, _exactly who is the big brother here?_

He squeezed Mikey's hand, hard and fast, then let his hand fall back to his side as he swiped the card that allowed them entrance, nodded once, and left to find the Shredder.

Lingering by the doors, Mikey watched him go. Knowing they were going to see each other again helped, knowing that he didn't have to go back to their cramped room or wake alone helped more, but… some small corner in the back of his mind screamed that he was being left behind again.

Still, there would be time to deal with his fear of abandonment later. The best thing he could do now was follow the plan.

He started wandering the halls, stretching his joints and warming up his muscles as he walked. To the ninja he'd been living side-by-side with for the past few months, he was walking aimlessly. As long as they thought that he wasn't a threat, finding the mysterious room where their memories were stolen would be a piece of cake.

_Speaking of cake… no, no, focus!_

Every couple doors he'd poke his head in. He wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for, but he had a feeling he'd know it when he saw it. Then he remembered that the Foot Clan had a doctor. Since there wasn't anyone around to smack his head, he smacked himself.

Of course! Where do you take two mutants when you want to mess with their noggins? You take them to a doctor. Dr. Stockman.

Three Foot soldiers were walking past him when he had this awesome discovery and he impulsively hooked one by the elbow, forgetting that such a move could be seen as threat.

"Hey!" complained the young ninja he'd dragged away.

Before the other two could draw their weapons, Mikey rushed to ask, "Do you guys know where I can find Dr. Stockman? Master Shredder really wants to see him." In case that didn't sound urgent enough, he added as sternly as he could, "Right now."

The ninjas glanced uneasily at each other. "Usually, he's in his lab." The smaller Foot solider Mike was holding onto pulled away from him. Mike shot him a look of pure annoyance that actually had more to do with the less than satisfactory answer he'd gotten than anything the Foot had done.

"Okay, say I haven't memorized the layout of this entire building and don't know where Stockman's lab is, how do I get there?" While directions clearly weren't their strong suit, they managed to explain that Stockman's lab was a floor down, below ground level.

Really, Mikey thought, he should have guessed that. He wanted to be outside and warm so it only made sense that the place he needed to go was underground.

Shaking off his dismay, Mike shot off to find the nearest elevator, only for one of the Foot to call him back.

Exasperated, he jogged back, unable to keep the whine entirely out of his voice when he replied, _"Yes?"_ These guys never wanted to talk him and now suddenly it was like they wanted to be his friends or something.

The tallest Foot shifted uncomfortably while Mikey continued running in place. "We haven't exactly been the nicest to you these past few months, mostly because we never actually thought you'd stick with us this long." He shrugged. "After you botched your first mission and the Shredder took a piece out of ya, we figured it'd only be a matter of time before you went back to-" The shortest Foot elbowed him sharply in the ribs. They had a short, furious conversation while Mike kept moving, fidgeting because he had enough to think about already and if this was what he thought it might be then it was only going to stress him out. "We just wanted to say that you're one of us now, one of the Foot, and if you want to sit with us at lunch tomorrow, that'd be cool."

Mike stopped running in place, his jaw dropping so far it practically touched his toes. _Oh my G-O-S-H, they want to be my friends or something!_ There were a few things he thought he'd never hear, and a lunch invite from a Foot ninja was definitely at the top of the list.

But there was a mountain of reasons why he couldn't accept. The biggest one being he wasn't going to be around tomorrow. If they'd just reached out to him earlier… Or maybe it was better this way. If he'd been happy in the Foot Clan, there was a chance he'd have fought for them, fought against his brothers. Well, he sort of already fought against them but not really. Tripping didn't count.

"You… um… you don't think I'm too much of a freak to hang out with?" It was the first thing that entered his head and he hadn't entirely meant to say it out loud, but once he'd started the sentence he couldn't just stop. It would sound weird.

He cringed, waiting for their reaction. The one in the middle shrugged, "It's not that we don't think you're a freak. It's that we don't think it matters. Our superiors are a mutated fishman and a zombie dog. On the weird scale, a kid with a shell just doesn't rank that high, anymore."

And right there, Mikey could have cried. This was literally all he'd ever wanted and now it was standing right in front him, real human friends… and he had to walk away.

Worrying his lower lip, he glanced behind him, then back at the Foot soldiers, and then finally decided to give them all a quick hug. It didn't matter that they were all shocked and stiff as boards. They'd offered to be his friends and, if things had been different, if they'd just asked a day or a week earlier, they could have been. For Mikey, that was enough. While they struggled to get out of his group hug, Mike whispered, "If any of you see someone green in the hallway that isn't me, run in the opposite direction. If he's wearing red, run faster. It'll keep you from getting hurt." On that note, he released them, spun around, and started to run towards the nearest elevator.

"Hey, wait!"

"What?!" Mike yelled over his shoulder, barely slowing down as the shortest Foor soldier called after him.

"Your nose is bleeding!"

Besides a quick double take, Mike didn't show any sign of hearing the Foot soldier's words until he finally got into the elevator, where he pushed the glowing silver button for the basement level. The back of the elevator's doors were spotless, not a fingerprint or smudge on them, so Mike could see his own face staring back at him perfectly. He licked his beak, watched the turtle staring back at him do the same, and tasted blood on his tongue. It wasn't bright red like when he got a paper cut or when he accidentally nicked himself with a _kunai,_ but almost purple, the color of a rose left without water or light. It was the same blood he'd seen at the docks.

All at once, his head felt hot, boiling. He rested it against the elevator doors while he waited for whoever was playing the bongos in his head to take a water break.

The elevator dinged, loud and grating, and Mike straightened, wiping the blood off his face, "Yuck," and getting his kusarigama ready for action. As much as he hated to enter a fight with the _kusarigama_ out first – he liked to judge whether or not the fight actually required lethal force before he prepared to use it – chances were good that he wasn't going to be able to trick or fool Stockman into thinking he'd just wandered into his lab.

Inside the lab, not too far from the elevator, was a tank full of orange water, the sort you'd never let a toddler swim in for fear they'd come out of it with six fingers and two heads. Mike ogled it. "This must be where they fixed up Xever." Past the tank, there were computers humming loudly as green text rushed down their screens, vials filled with liquids that didn't match the description of anything on the Periodic Table. There was a balcony overseeing the lab, a balcony Mikey knew he recognized. He followed it down, noticing with a flare of anger the little trap doors where the chains were hidden. Only a few feet further, he saw the white CT scan machine Dr. Stockman had altered.

Forgetting about his headache, Mikey let out a whoop as he ran to check out the machine. Sure, he wasn't a genius or a doctor, but it was amazing what you could do when you didn't know what you were doing.

The sound of the computers humming transformed into more of a loud buzzing as he ran his hand over the machine he was sure had the rest of his memories locked somewhere inside it.

Something heavy dropped on the balcony with a thud. Its shadow hovered in front of Mike, stretching over his face and hands.

Turning around slowly to see the mutated doctor buzzing up a storm, every inch the aggravated fly dealing with an intruder caught flatfooted in its territory. Mikey chuckled weakly, "Hi, Doc… You are just the guy I wanted to see."

The buzzing increased in vehemence, Dr. Stockman beating his wings until the only thing keeping Mikey from running towards the exit was the knowledge that he and Leo needed the machine he was standing next. Chances were good they weren't going to get another shot at the machine. Unfortunately, Mikey could barely lift a couch by himself, let alone a machine the same size filled to the brim with gears and gizmos instead of fluff. The machine itself wasn't going anywhere.

Time for Plan B. "Listen, " Mike called out, "you were bullied when you were a kid, right? You hate bullies, right?" The buzzing eased slightly. At the very least, Stockman looked like he was listening. "Well, Mas- the Shredder is just one big bully. It's because he was pushing you around that your mutation happened, right?" Actually, that was a guess. He was feeling Stockman out, trying to calm him down and/or get him talking. And it seemed like it was sort of working. The room was starting to look a little hazy, though, his legs turning to jelly as he spoke, so he raised his voice, going for the kill, "Donnie has retromutagen! He can turn you back! All you have to do is tell me and Leo how we can get our memories back and I…" What did he have? What could he say that Stockman would believe? "… I swear on my honor that I will get you your retromutagen and turn you back to normal."

His legs wobbled, his body tipping until he was leaning against the hard plastic wall of the memory-stealing machine for support. The sound of his own harsh breaths rushed through his ears. Stockman cocked his head, hardly even making a sound as he watched the young turtle struggle to right himself, then tossed his head back and laughed until the walls threw back dark, distorted echoes of his own voice.

"Y-you maaake a c-compelling aaargument, Michelangelo. B-but I rrrealized t-that the one t-thing I haaate more t-than a bully issss being b-bullied myself. A-and also," the fly mutant leapt up onto the wall, his pinchers oozing the same acid he'd used to dissolve Mikey's lunch the othe day, "I haaate being outsmarted."

Ok, reminding Stockman that Donnie figured out how to create retromutagen before him may have been a mistake.

A gloppy gob of his spit came flying at Mikey's head. With a noise of disgust, he threw his body away from it. The motion jarred his skull, forcing him to grit his teeth as he pushed his body to stand. Pushed it farther than even he thought it could go so he could fight.

Then another figure appeared on the balcony.

Swinging his _kusarigama_ in a wide arc, Mikey called out, "Already calling for reinforcements, Stockman? I haven't even handed you your butt yet!" He inhaled sharply, breathing deep in an attempt to regain some of the air he'd spent on the taunt.

Another deranged laugh rang out. Mikey had to crane his head to see it was coming from the ceiling. "D-did you really thhink you could j-just march in here a-and I wooould heeelp you? News flash! T-this isn't a game. I a-am not a comic boook viiillain. There iiisss no Reverse or Self-Destruct button o-on that maaachine."

Narrowing his eyes into slits, Mikey struggled to face both the mutant on the ceiling and the ninja on the balcony. Turning his back on either was a bad idea. Stockman was trying to crush his spirit, to get him to give up, but it was going to take more than a creepy laugh and seemly insurmountable odds for that to happen. Especially when he had so much to look forward to.

Stockman curled his shoes around a pipe, letting the majority of his body fall so he could hang from the ceiling like a bat. "You looook so t-tired, turtle," Mikey stuck his tongue out. "It ssseems the c-cellular degeneration processs has already begun."

Cellular degeneration? That didn't sound like a good thing. Fittingly, just hearing the word made Mike feel like there were insects under his skin, chewing at his cells and tearing them apart. The mental image was nauseating. "Undo it."

"W-weren't you lissstening? _I can't."_

"And he wouldn't if he could." The ninja on the balcony said, finally deciding to take part in the conversation. Mikey took in the crooked nose, the ash blond hair, and shrieked, another memory lancing through his mind with the delicacy of a drill.

This one wasn't new. A face - human, frightened, pale, striking blindly in the fleeting light of passing cars. One step too slow, Leo shouting his name, and suddenly the human was having his face bashed into a concrete wall.

Except something was different. The human wasn't scared. He wasn't striking blindly. He focused, aiming for him. Trying to kill him.

The man looked down at Michelangelo, disgust written all over his face, "I was order to scare you, kill you if I could. Master Shredder didn't want you trusting humans. We left you out there on the streets until you were desperate, frightened, just the way we wanted you. When the Master finally came around to pick you two up, your brother practically leapt into his arms. All because he wanted you to be safe." Contorting his face into a sneer, he added, "Tell me… do you feel safe?"

The only response Mikey dignified that with was a low growl.

He'd encountered raccoons, injured and frightened; he knew how hard they could bite and scratch when cornered. As he watched the ninja pull a scythe out from behind his back, as he felt the air move as a drop of acid nearly landed on his foot, he figured it was time to rely on the pure animal instinct he was born with.

With that in mind, he struck out blindly against the closest threat, which turned out to be the thing that started this mess. Before either the ninja or Stockman could react, he plunged his blade into the head of the machine, ripping through metal, wires, and circuitry until sparks flew and the smell of smoke soured the air.

 _Wow,_ Mikey thought, _my instincts are awesome._

Stockman howled. "What d-did you DO?! I c-could have used ttthhe m-machine to h-halt the cccellular d-degeneration processs by eeerasing your memoriesss."

Mikey smiled, exhausted and hurting but satisfied that at least the machine that'd been used in him and Leo couldn't be used to hurt them or anyone else again. "Nah, me and Leo don't need you or your stupid machine. We have the smartest brother in the world!"

"A-are you sssaying your b-brother isss smarter than me?!"

"Did I stutter, dude?"

Stockman flew at him at the same time the ninja leapt from the balcony. Mikey stumbled backwards, narrowly missing being tackled by Stockman as the mutant flew over him, barreling into the ninja who'd chosen that moment to try to cut Mikey's head off.

He twisted, sidestepping in a way that threw his whole body into the motion. While the other two detangled themselves, he started lurching towards the elevator.

If he was feeling this bad, then Leo was in trouble.

"You're g-going to diiie!" Stockman screamed at his retreating back. Mikey didn't stop, not even after a kunai whizzed past his head. The elevator was only a few feet away. He could make it. He didn't know what good he'd be once he found Leo, but he'd never find out if he didn't get in that elevator. "M-master Sssshredder hasss the cure."

Nearly crying with frustration, Mikey stopped in his tracks again, the elevator so close he could touch it. "Where is it?"

"It'sss on his perssson. There'sss o-only enough for t-two dosess." Oh. That didn't seem so bad. Two doses? That was more than enough for both of them. Sure, getting it from the Shredder wouldn't be easy, but as far as the Shredder knew, he and Leo were still best buds. They could make it work. "I-if sssomething were to happen to one of the viiialsss," Stockman finished, manic glee gleaming in his thousands of eyes, "w-what do you tthink your brother would do to sssave you?"

_Oh…_

This could be bad.


	7. Into The Fire

It didn't take long to find where the Shredder had gone. He had a presence about him – the sort that left fear and trembling in its wake. With that said, Leo didn't find him by following a trail of quivering ninjas. He just walked up to one and asked were Master Shredder was. As far as they knew, he was still loyal, so there wasn't any reason to suspect that the Shredder's favorite wanted anything other than to spend another night training.

Considering he'd managed to fool everyone into thinking he was still loyal for this long, he probably deserved some sort of award. Then again, he'd also managed to fool his brother into thinking that seeing the Shredder hurt him had only increased his devotion to the man, which was something he hadn't intended to happen. He knew Mikey wore his heart on his sleeve, he knew the Shredder would suspect something was up if their relationship didn't change at all after "his" punishment, but, really, he just wanted to keep Mikey as far away from the Shredder as possible. So he made sure he received the Shredder's complete and absolute attention. It meant seeing less of his little brother, but it also meant that the Shredder saw less of his little brother. And the more the Shredder taught him, the more Leo could use against him when the time came to pay back what he owed him.

And all Leo had to do was look at the scars on Mikey's back to remember just how much he owed his former master, to remember the chains around his arms, the terror and confusion.

He'd been helpless, useless, and memory alone burned in him like a virus. It powered his swings, his legs, and it fueled his grudge.

Now, finally, he could stop pretending.

He lifted a hand to knock, starting when then the door creaked inwards on its own, red light spilling out from the crack. "Come in, Leonardo. I've been expecting you."

Before he stepped in, Leo took a moment to force his clenched fists to relax into flat palms at his sides, shook off some of the dull ache from the growing headache under his forehead, then swallowed hard and stepped forward. Inside, he saw the same room where they were informed of their first mission, except the bluish-green lighting on the wall had been changed to red, giving the streams flowing through the floor a tinge that resembled blood.

Leo kneeled, his head lowered so the Shredder couldn't read his expression. "The mission was a success, Master."

"So I've heard. Rahzar informed me that you and Xever left your posts for a short time. Did you encounter any… interference?" There was an emphasis on the word that suggested he already knew the answer, he was simply curious as to whether his star pupil was willing to lie.

Not seeing the point to trying to hide what the Shredder already knew to be the truth, Leo admitted that he and Xever had found Michelangelo engaged in combat with two unknown ninja.

The key to saving a failed deception was to blend it with the truth, so Leo finished his report by stating that though the mission was unhindered by their presence, the two ninja escaped into the harbor.

Leo listened to the sound of metal scraping against the ground as the Shredder turned his back on him. It was tempting, the thought of sticking his swords into the man's back right then, but Leo curled his fingers, knowing from the veins bulging over his teacher's biceps that his guard wasn't as lowered as it seemed.

Keeping his voice low, the Shredder said, "They were mutants like you, weren't they? Turtles?" The way he said it, it was like he'd been expecting Leo to encounter his brothers, maybe even dreading it.

For once, Leo had nothing to say. His mouth went dry. He nodded, refusing to speak when the smallest quiver could give away so much. As a ninja, he was determined to keep his cards as close to his chest as possible.

His master had taught him well in that regard.

Age, grief, and weary disappointment crept into the Shredder's posture as he stared sightlessly out the window with his ruined eye, looking for all the world like the wise teacher Leo had first thought he was. "Those ninja were your brothers, Leonardo. They were raised by former man, a rat named Hamato Yoshi."

The name triggered a rush of pain in Leo's head; so intense it nearly covered the longing he felt. But his heart heard the name and called out to it. Ruthlessly, he buried the longing, refusing to let himself be tricked again. He wasn't going to jump from one master to another based on a warm, fuzzy feeling.

Despite that, he wanted to remember. He focused on the name like he was pulling on a thread, following the vague sense of home and belonging it carried with it.

"He goes by Splinter now." The Shredder continued. "His father adopted me into his clan, and I looked up to him, thinking of him as my own. I was his son. Yoshi was my brother." His tone taking on a razor-edge, he added, "Earning his approval meant everything to me. Until I fell in love." Distracted, Leo wondered if Mikey was also being forced to listen to what was shaping up to be a long, boring story. If Shred-head was hoping telling him his backstory was going to make Leo pity him, then he'd better prepare to be disappointed.

Actually, Shred-head was a good nickname. Next time he saw his brothers, he'd have to tell them about it.

The Shredder noticed Leo's lapse in attention and commented, "You are listening, aren't you, Leonardo?"

"Of course, Master." Thinking back on the last thing he'd heard, Leo asked, "Who was she?"

"Her name was Tang Shen. We fell in love as children, but Yoshi was jealous. He stole her from me." The words triggered a sense of déjà vu. They weren't quite right, grinding away at Leo's mind like oddly shaped gears that ended up doing more harm than good, but it caught his attention. The worst part was the Shredder genuinely sounded like he was grieving. "At the same time, I learned that my adopted father had wiped out my clan, leaving me as its only survivor."

 _It must have been awful,_ Leo thought bitterly, _finding out the man you looked up to and wanted to impress was a monster._

"I gathered lost souls, vagabonds, and rebuilt my clan from the ash. Then I set out to reclaim my love, only to find she had chosen Yoshi in my absence. I didn't know what he'd done to deceive her" - _Maybe she just had good taste?_ \- " but I knew he must have done something, so I tried to take her by force." And Leo didn't know a lot about women, but he had a pretty good feeling that they didn't like being forced to do _anything._ Asserting your will over someone you supposedly loved was the same as treating them as an enemy or a slave. It was a corruption of the ancient teachings to use them against the people you were meant to protect.

Leo gritted his teeth. The more he heard the story, the more he suspected he wasn't getting all of the information. His last attempt to remember Hamato Yoshi, however, had resulted in – _gnashing teeth, slashing claws, he doesn't know me!_

It wasn't a memory of a man turned into a rat. It was a memory of a rat the size of a man, and it just left him more confused than before. How could a feral rat be the Hamato Yoshi the Shredder spoke of?

Slowly, the Shredder pulled off his mask, revealing his scarred scalp and blackened skin. In all likelihood, Leo would be seeing it again in his nightmares, If he lived long enough to fall asleep. "In the ensuing battle with Yoshi, I received these burns. And lost Tang Shen." Having made his point, he placed the helmet back on his head. "However, I found a child in the rubble, my daughter." Leo tried to picture it, a crying baby among flames and corpses. What sort of life would a child raised by the ruined man standing in front of him lead? "I raised her here, in the Foot Clan, where she exceled, rising to the top of the ranks when she was barely thirteen." Growling, he added, "But stealing Tang Shen from me wasn't enough for Yoshi. He chose to try to take my daughter from me, to turn her from me, and now she is lost to both of us."

"Karai," Leo whispered, warm blood dripping down his face and onto the floor as the name clicked into place. _She's not your daughter!_

His face twisted, contorting with a rage he didn't entirely understand. Above him, he heard the Shredder say, "It seems Stockman was correct. You are beginning to regain your memories." And if Leo had transformed into a stature, he couldn't have been more still. A wave of nausea passed through him as black dots danced in his vision, but still he refused to move or make a sound.

Taking on a tone of condescension, the Shredder sneered, "Did you really think your bloodlust wouldn't give you away, Leonardo? You're not as talented an actor as you think."

"That's fine." Leo unsheathed his swords, not caring anymore if the Shredder still thought he was loyal. "This is better, anyway."

Without waiting for a response, he leapt to the side, narrowly dodging a three-bladed strike, and ran up the wall. "You've taught me so much these past few months, Master." The words were a ragged snarl, something he'd been forcing down into his chest over and over since he seen his brother with wounds fresh and wet on his shell and all of them inflicted by their master. "The least I can do is repay you."

His body already beginning to fail, Leo pushed off the wall, throwing himself at his master. He aimed for the exposed skin of his arms, of his face, and managed to slam the butt of his hilt against the back of his head. As he disengaged, Leo felt his arms shake with the impact.

The Shredder had strength and height on him, but he was also vulnerable on his right side. Adrenaline coursing through him, Leo darted the right, keeping his knees bent and his torso low, and then he powered himself into the air, his swords seeking any exposed flesh they could find. The Shredder reacted even faster than Leo had anticipated, shielding his face with his blades. Then the his other hand rose to join the first, and Leo had to use the momentum he had left to shift his body so he could push off the Shredder's swords with his feet. The result sent him flying backwards with little control as to where he fell.

His body slammed into concrete and water, forcing an instinctive gasp out of him that sucked the red-tinged pool into his lungs. For a terrifying instant, he floundered; not remembering which way was up.

Then his legs found the ground and he erupted from the surface, sputtering and drenched but not beaten. Not yet.

The Shredder stared down at him, amused. "This is why you are my favorite student, Leonardo." Pain so intense he nearly screamed racked Leo's body, sapping his strength even as he struggled to stand, to continue the fight. "Unlike your soft brother and even my own daughter, you are willing to kill. To take what is rightfully yours."

A hand shot out, clamping over the armor on his left leg. Using the leg as an anchor, Leo dragged himself out of the pool until his entire body lay collapsed at the Shredder's feet. He heaved, as his lungs stuttered, no part of his body obeying him when he mentally screamed for them to move.

Losing to the Shredder had always been a possibility, but not like this. He refused to die as anything other than a proud ninja. He refused to die unless he was standing on his feet.

"It seems your little rebellion accelerated Dr. Stockman's cellular degeneration. " The Shredder observed, taking note of his student's prone form and the wet blood slick on his face. As he spoke, he pulled two small, green vials from a pouch around his belt and a syringe. Calmly, he explained about the safety measures he'd had installed in Leonardo and his brother in the event that they began to regain their memories. "The degeneration targets the frontal lobe first, destroying brain tissue as it ravages old memories. Then it moves on to your body, attacking muscles and balance, and all the while filling you excruciating pain."

Shifting so at least his head was no longer pressed against the floor, Leo panted, "Do you blame Hamato Yoshi for this, too?"

"He made me the monster I am. I blame him for everything." Before Leo could get another word in, he felt a pinch on his shoulder. Green liquid plunged into him, spreading through his body. Panic flowed with it as his mind immediately leapt to poison. He was being poisoned and his brothers were going to find his body. And then what would happen to them? Mikey was still somewhere in the building. He wasn't safe.

Where were Raph and Donnie?!

Gradually, the panic subsided as whatever the Shredder had injected into him eased the pain, giving him his body back. The Shredder stepped back. "The substance in these vials regenerates the damaged tissue, thereby offsetting the degeneration order."

Comprehension dawned, horror spreading through Leo faster than the Shredder's cure as he stared at the single vial left in the Shredder's hand. "Mikey needs that."

The Shredder nodded, his dark eyes glittering with the certainty that his chosen protégé knew already what he was going to say, knew already that he was trapped in a web there was no escape from. "Your brother does need this if he is going to live. However, I don't need him. Unlike you, he is weak, soft. Neither worthy of my teachings nor my attention."

"Shredder-" The Shredder raised an arch brow. Leo corrected himself, grinding out, "Master, please."

"If you serve me, Leonardo, and only me, I will make sure Michelangelo receives this." The vial creaked under the strain as the Shredder increased his grip. Reacting fast, Leo shot forwards, grabbing for the vial, then went flying backwards, back into the pool, after a booted foot slammed into his chest. "Remember, Leonardo, everything you know I have shown you. But I have not shown you everything I know. Fight for me," The Shredder outstretched his hand, "or let Michelangelo die."

"That's not true." Leo snarled. "I'm not your student, your soldier, or your son!" After a few more, angry breaths, he lowered his head in defeat, "But I'll fight for you."

Leo reached to grab the Shredder's offered hand, when a sound roaring down the hallway outside stopped him. It was the revving engine of a motorcycle.

"Leo, you better be in there!" called Raph, his fist banging on the door. "My bike wasn't made for climbing fifty-five flights of stairs!"

"Actually, if you want to be accurate, there are exactly-"

 _"Shut up,_ Donnie."

The door burst open, Raph and Donnie rushing in with their weapons ready and each smelling of smoke and diesel fuel.

Raph laid eyes on the Shredder standing inches away from his brother and immediately charged him. "Get away from Leo!" Both Leo and the Shredder jumped sideways, each avoiding the confrontation, and Raph swung around to face the Shredder. "Hey, there, Shred-head," he said with a nasty grin. "I've had a few months now to study interior decorating. So how do you feel about me shoving your intestines down your throat and your brain up you're-"

"Raph!" Donnie interrupted, a smirk on his face. His fingers curled around his bo, half in anticipation of the fight to come and half out of weary suspicion. From his place by the stairs, the Shredder had never moved, as though he were waiting for something. And what was he holding?

Ignoring Raph, the Shredder locked his gaze on Leo. "Leonardo, control your brothers."

Don threw Leo a questioning look, only to see that Leo wasn't looking at him. He wasn't looking at anyone. He was raising his katana like they were almost more than he could carry, Water dripped off his skin, pooling on the floor around him. Then he pointed his blades at Raph's back. "Get away from him, Raph."

Staring at him in openmouthed disbelief, Raph yelled, "What are you talking about, Leo? This guy kidnapped you; he hurt Mikey. Why are you still protecting him?!"

He didn't get an answer. Leo kept his mouth shut, his blue eyes so cold they burned.

There was a flash of purple and Leo felt his legs taken out from under him. He rolled with the fall, struck the ground with the flat of his hand and sprang back up. And Raph watched, hurt and betrayed, as Leo again pointed his blades him. Except this time the blade was also pointing at Donnie, their younger brother, and that was unacceptable.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, Leo." Raph narrowed his eyes into slits, preparing to fight in earnest. "But I'm gonna beat it out of ya!"

Still silent, Leo backed into the pool, waited for Raph to charge him, and swung his katanas across the surface of the water so it went flying into Raph's eyes. Leo gripped the edge of the pool, locked his legs around his brother's, then flipped him, slamming him into the ground.

"Stop it!" Donnie shouted, torn between intervening and keeping his weapon on the Shredder. "Leo! Tell us what's wrong! Why are you doing this?"

The bo went flying out of hands, pinned to the wall by one of Leo's katanas. Donnie stared at it in shock.

He spun back around to see Leo holding half of Raph's head under the water, trying to get him to loosen his grip on his weapons. Thrashing and spitting, Raph directed his furious green eyes at the Shredder, knowing that, somehow, Leo's attack was all his fault.

"Well done, Leonardo," boomed the Shredder, his hands clapping in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "That was even better than expected." Hate flooded Leonardo like spilled acid. He'd hoped a plan would come together, something that save all of his brothers, but nothing had come to mind. The Shredder withstood his kicks and blows like Leo was nothing more than an annoying fly, barely a challenge. And as long as the Shredder held Mikey's cure, he couldn't fight with Raph and Donnie. "Now," the Shredder continued, obviously savoring the moment, "kill them."

Hardly aware of what he was doing, Leo released Raph, who came up gasping. He opened his mouth to rip into Leo, caught his expression, and closed his mouth. Instead, he turned his attention to the guy behind his brother's strings.

"I can't do that." Leo croaked. "You can't ask me to do that."

"Then Michelangelo will die."

Understanding and a new kind of horror washed away the last remnants of confusion and hurt Donnie and Raph had been carrying. Neither of them knew everything, but they were starting to get an idea.

A shuriken whistled through the air, flying past Leo's head, and the glass vial, the Shredder's only leverage, exploded in his hand. Leo cried out, knowing that was the only chance he had of saving his little brother.

There was a wet cough and all eyes turned to the doorway where Mikey stood, his bloodstained teeth bared in a grim smile. "There you go, Leo. I'm not holding you back anymore. Now go show that evil cheese grater who the real ninja is." He sagged against the wall, breathing hard. Then crumpled, falling to the ground in a boneless pile.

Leo screamed, "Mikey!" and scrabbled forward, sliding on his knees the last few feet so he could get to Mikey faster.

Momentarily distracted, Raph took a blow from the enraged Shredder that sent him sprawling and Donnie rushed to guard Leo and Mikey. If the Shredder wanted either of his brothers, he'd have to get through him first. Don readied his bo and widened his stance. From the set of his jaw, it was clear that he'd be more than willing to throw the Shredder out the window if he got the chance.

Mikey, fighting to stay conscious, heard Leo calling his name. He looked afraid, more afraid than he'd been when the Shredder had whipped him and that used to be the most frightened Mikey had ever seen him. Looking at him now, though, it didn't even compare.

Any ice in Leo was gone as he begged Mikey to stay with him because, _I can't- I can't- I can't lose you like this. You can't die! You're my little brother, Mikey. I need you. So don't you dare – don't you dare die thinking you hold me back. Mike, you make me strong!_ Gently, he wiped some of the blood off of Mikey's face, only to realize with a start just how pale he was. There was a sickly sheen to his greyish green skin, each shallow gasp of air rattling in his chest like dry bones in a coffin. Then the rattling slowed, quieted. Mikey's blue eyes, rendered dull with pain, closed on his brother's tear streaked face.

Feeling lost, Leo locked eyes with Raph. "What do I do?"

For a moment, Raph looked just as lost as he was, then he saw the self-hatred settle in his brother's gaze, recognized the blame that was all being directed inward, and he got up, marched over to Leo, grabbed him by his straps and yelled, "What do you do?! You do what you always do. You get up and you keep fighting! Did the Shredder take your guts or something? Stop treating protecting us like it's some sort of burden you have to bear! Protecting your brothers is a privilege, Leo. I know it is to me!" At the look on Leo's face, he added a little more gently, "We protect each other." Turning to face the Shredder, he finished, "So stop moping around and get your head in the game. As long as Mike's still breathing, it's not over. We can still save him."

Don nodded, his expression a stern mask as he rapidly made connections. "Leo, tell me right now, did this thing that's happening to Mikey happen to you?"

"Yes," answered Leo as he rose to his feet, yanking the katana he'd used to disarm Don out of the wall so he could toss him his bo."The Shredder gave me a cure or an antidote or something. It repaired the damage. But it's gone now."

Relief bloomed in Donnie's eyes. "I can save him," he said confidently. "I know I can. But we have to get him back to lab as quickly as possible."

Which meant the situation had changed from defeating the Shredder to escaping him. Leo nodded, accepting the change. Refusing to leave when he'd had the chance had been his mistake. He'd prioritized vengeance over his brother's safety and, once again, Mikey was being punished for his poor judgment. It should have been his lungs struggling to breath; it should have been his heart shuddering in his chest.

But Raph was right. Regretting what he'd done wouldn't help Mikey. He had to fight.

Above them, through the skylight, stars glowed, pure and unaffected. They reflected off of Leo's katanas as he launched himself forward, engaging the Shredder over and over. Ten. Thirty. Forty times.

Sweat dripped down his forehead. A blade missed his skin by such a narrow margin that he felt the air part as it passed by.

Behind him, he heard Raph say, "Alright, time for the Donnie Rocket!"

"Or," Donnie interjected, "we could do the Raph Rocket."

"Come on, Don, you know you can't lift me."

"I just don't see why I have to be punished because you can't keep your paws off the desserts- " A soft groan came from Mikey's direction. Donnie sighed. "Alright, I changed my mind. Just throw me."

Grinning widely, Raph gripped Don's ankles, spun him around, and tossed him at the Shredder's face. Leo dove out the way, allowing Don to wrap his legs around the Shredder's neck so he could bang on his helmet with his bo like it was a tin drum. Roaring, the Shredder plucked him from around his neck, stretched him over his leg, and slammed him shell first against his knee.

"Donnie!"

The impact came with a resounding crack. Don opened his mouth in a silent scream as his body rose back into the air thanks to the force of blow. The Shredder raised his fists, prepared to send the turtle three feet into the ground. However, when they came down, they met nothing but air.

Angered, he looked up to see Leo holding his brother. Shifting his gaze from the coolly murderous glower he reserved for the Shredder, Leo turned a concerned expression on his younger brother.

"I'm fine." Donnie gasped out. "My shell's just a little cracked." Twisting, he called out, "Raph! Get the Shell-cycle!"

"I thought you said the thing you put into it was new and hadn't been tested yet?"

"You're right, Raph." Leo winced, having a good idea what was coming. "Hey, why don't we ask the Shredder to do it? Oh, yeah, because HE'S TRYING TO KILL US!"

And there wasn't really any arguing with that. Strangely devoid of his usual griping, Raph ran out the door. When the Shredder tried to go after him, Leo met his blades again. He slipped under his legs, aiming for the light mesh between his helmet and his chest piece, then bent backwards to avoid the sharp spikes protruding from the Shredder's arms. Out of the side of his vision, he saw Don move towards Mikey, one arm clutched around his stomach, and then Don was tucking Mikey under his free arm, looking ten years older and exhausted in ways he'd never felt before. His brain, his body, his heart, they were all tired. Because his arms were never meant to hold a little brother who didn't look up at him and smile.

Leo saw that, saw his two youngest brothers beaten and broken, and leapt into the air, mind focused on one goal. Legs locked around the Shredder's neck from behind, squeezing until he clawed at Leonardo, struggled to cut him without cutting himself. "My disciple, you can be so much more than this. Cut your ties with your brothers. Let me teach you. Let me show you true strength."

"You're alone, Shredder. You don't know what true strength is." As the Shredder fell to his knees, weakening, Leo stated coldly, "And there's nothing you can teach me."

Just when he thought it was done, Raph came roaring into the room with the Shell-Cycle and the Shredder's eyes snapped open. Panicking, Leo shouted, "Raph, whatever you're going to do, do it!" So Raph picked up Don, who refused to let go of Mikey, slung the two of them over the back of the Shell-Cycle, and hit the gas.

Growling, the Shredder pulled Leo from his shoulders and threw him. Raph adjusted the Shell-cycle so Leo ended up sitting right in the space between him and Donnie when he landed. " Hold on to our brothers, Leo! Master Splinter'll never forgive me if I bring home two turtle pancakes!"

"That's not funny!" They ducked as a kunai and a shuriken flew over their heads. "Go!" The Shredder made one last grab for them, but Raph punched the gas again, driving the Shell-cycle straight through the window and out into the open air.


	8. Into The City

Wind whipped at their skin, their legs clenched around the motorcycle until sharp bits pressed into their thigh and calf muscles. When Don felt his and Mikey's bodies begin to rise as the bike's weight accelerated its decent to a higher degree than the turtles riding atop it, he hooked his feet under the first crevasse he found and used his free hand to grab the exhaust pipe. The pipe seared his hand like a hot pan, but he refused to let go of it or his little brother. "Raph!" Raising his voice over the roaring air and Leo's high-pitched shrieks so the turtle at the front could hear him, he yelled, "Press the button!"

The ground was rushing up to meet them, the people on the streets close enough that they could tell the colors of their shirts, and Raph, an exhilarated gleam in his green eyes, jabbed a red button on the side of the throttle with a shout of, "This better work, Donnie!"

With a sickening jolt, a parachute erupted from between the two older brothers, flying into the night sky and halting some of the bike's downward momentum, though most of them could still feel their stomachs plummeting to the ground as the force of the sudden jerk lifted them off their seats. Leo threw his entire upper body over Mikey and Donnie while Donnie focused on holding on, his little brother worryingly silent under the weight of his arm.

Eventually, the motorcycle stabilized. Once they were no longer in danger of falling off, Don released the exhaust pipe, blowing on the blisters forming under his skin. Belatedly, he remembered that he'd probably be needing all the dexterity he was capable of on a good day, the sort of day where he hadn't been thrown around like a hacky sack or burned, but while he was sure he could stop Mikey's deterioration, there was no way that he knew of to bring the dead back to life.

If he ever lost one of his brothers, though, he might just make one.

The Shell-cycle swayed, edging dangerously close to a neighboring building. "Donnie," Raph called over his shoulder as he desperately tried to gain some form of control over the steering, "now would be a really good time to tell me how to drive this thing!"

"It's not for driving," Donatello countered, his neck straining to see past Leo's leg. "It's for landing and not dying! And it's doing a pretty good job at each of those things! Thank you very much." The motorcycle's front wheel crashed into a window, and with the parachute so close to the building, the wind was beginning to flatten it. Donnie hastily corrected himself, "Well, it's doing a pretty good job at one of the things."

Without anyone telling him what to do, Raphael decided to do what he did best: hit stuff. He kicked the metal frame around the window, heart pounding in his chest as the parachute got smaller and smaller, then finally pushed off of it, sending them back into the open air.

It gave Donnie an idea. "Raph, Leo, use your grappling hooks to tie us to the metal framework of one these buildings and pull us towards it as we get lower, Once we get too close, unwind your hooks and do the same thing to another building, one that's farther away. Keep repeating that until we're on the ground and try to keep us towards the center as much as possible. The wind naturally wants to push us towards the buildings, which is why people aren't supposed to parachute around skyscrapers!"

"Good thing we're not natural or people then!" There was something fierce and challenging in Raph's expression, more like a baring of teeth than a grin, as he fired his grappling hook and Leo followed suit. They were so close now to being a family again, so close to going home, and if Raphael had to fight the earth itself to make it the rest of the way then he'd find a way to win.

A glance in Leo's direction revealed a determined, grim expression, his brows furrowed and his mouth drawn into a hard line as he started pulling their flying motorcycle towards the other building. The Shredder's building was actually closer than the one they'd chosen, but unless the Foot ninja running through it had suddenly disappeared - unlikely - a building fifty miles away would be a better choice. The last thing they needed was Foot-bots climbing on the ropes or cutting away their hooks.

Mikey coughed, the sound wet and rattling in his chest, then hacked up a liquid that went flying towards the ground. "Is there any way for us to get down faster?" Leo asked.

It would've been easy to say something like 'Yeah, you could jump' but Raph could tell that Leo was still freaking out on the inside and, having been recently drowned and forced to watch his little brother make a stupidly heroic decision that he never should've been forced to make, Raph wasn't exactly calm himself. He wanted to break glass, hit things, and yell at the top of his lungs. He wanted to go home and rest for the first time in months knowing his entire family was together and safe and alive. He wanted to play video games with Mikey. There were a lot of things he wanted and none of them were going to happen if they didn't get back to the lair pronto.

Donnie noticed Raph had gone quiet and raised a weary brow. The fingers he had wrapped around Mikey's shell felt divots, tracing the long scars he'd seen on the docks, and it lit something inside him, so when Raphael raised a _kunai,_ his gaze settled contemplatively on the parachute.

And then Raph did something he wouldn't have before Leo and Mikey disappeared. He waited for Don's permission. Sure, if Don complained or outright rejected the idea, he might have done it anyway, but the fact that they made eye contact and Raph waited, waited for Donatello to give him a sign if what he was about to do was the wrong thing to do, it felt a lot like respect. And, hey, at worst, the accelerated fall would kill all of them. At best, it would save Mikey's life.

Couldn't be anymore of a no-brainer than that. "Do it, Raph." The kunai pierced the parachute, the tear allowing more air through and speeding up their decent to the point where they no longer had to worry about crashing into the buildings.

Screams rang out from the ground, humans started running. No one wanted to be anywhere near the crash zone. Donnie did a quick equation in his head so he could come to the same conclusion his two older brothers had already realized. At this rate, the fall was going to kill them. Correction: It was going to roast them, crush them, completely annihilate them.

Humans were going to walk over their green stains on the cement and ponder over how sentient turtles could be so dumb!

Suddenly, Donnie felt Leo's arm curling around his plastron and latched onto Mikey. "Raph, use your grappling hook to swing to the ground. Let your shell take as much of the impact as it can, okay?"

Raph nodded automatically, then did a double take. "How're you going to carry both Don and Mikey? Pass Don over, I'll carry him."

"There's no time!" Leo shouted back. "I'll figure something out. Just jump!" After shooting a mournful glance at his motorcycle, Raph steeled himself, shot his hook, and jumped, not retreating into his shell until he was inches from the ground. Even from the inside, he could feel street scraping at his carapace as he went skidding down the pavement, sparks flying from the edges of his shell.

When he felt himself slow down, he popped out of his shell, rolled to his feet, and looked up to see Leo's arm smashed through a window, his hook wrapped around a frame several stories higher. Holding onto Leo's free hand was Donatello, his own free hand frantically grasping at their kid brother as he slipped through his fingers.

Sweat beading on his forehead, Leo fought to carry his two brothers, refusing to let go even as his shoulder threatened to pop out of its socket and his muscles began to tear. "Don, hold on to him! " He called down. "I'll try to pull us up!"

If there was ever a time in his life where Raph had ran faster, he couldn't remember it then. It was like the wings he'd been seriously wishing for a few minutes prior sprouted from his back and he flew into position, right under Donnie. "Don," arms outstretched, he yelled, "drop him!"

Mouth gaping in blatant disbelief, Donatello asked if Raph was joking, Except Raph had never been more serious. He knew he could catch Mikey because he had to. He knew he had to because if he didn't he might lose all three of his brothers, and if that happened he would lose his mind. He'd been born with three brothers and he'd die with three brothers. That was the way it had to be.

There was a set to his jaw that reminded Donatello of the first few weeks, the ones where they looked for their brothers and found nothing. Raphael had hated every second he wasn't out there looking for them, hated stopping to eat or sleep, hated the empty rooms and silent mornings, but he never once thought that their brothers weren't out there, somewhere. He'd never once accepted the possibility that there was nothing left to find. And he never let Donnie accept it, either.

So, when Raphael swore he'd catch their little brother, Donnie didn't doubt him.

He'd been right before, after all.

Against Leo's protests, Donatello let Mikey fall.

 

"I got you," Raph breathed, staring at the unconscious turtle in his arms. "I got you, little brother." It was jarring to feel how light Michelangelo was compared to where he'd been before the Shredder decided to add kidnapping to his ninja bag of tricks. Most of his baby fat was gone, replaced by wiry muscle. The sickness in him pinched his cheeks. He shuddered in Raphael's arms, still fitting perfectly against him in ways only a sibling he'd known his entire life could.

Frowning, he pressed Mikey against his plastron as he waited, impatient, for Leo and Don to grapple the rest of the way down. Without Michelangelo's additional weight, they made short work of it.

Unfortunately, their exit hadn't exactly been subtle. Or quiet. Humans on all sides stared at them fearfully.

Glancing around for the nearest sewer entrance, Donatello muttered, "Leo, we don't have time for this." There wasn't much they could do, though. The humans weren't Kraang or Foot. They couldn't just attack them.

A cheesy grin plastered on his face, Leo gently pushed past Donatello, stepped in front of Raph, and announced, "Hello, people of New York, I hope you enjoyed our little promotional show. The Turtle Circus will be coming very soon, so my brothers and I thought we'd give you all a taste of some of the coming attractions." Shifting nervously, he added in a slightly less convincing tone, "Did I mention we're in costume?"

There was a few murmurs amongst the crowd as they processed this new information. Some of their faces still looked skeptical, but others seemed to at least find the idea plausible.

For a while, though, Donatello had noticed one of the humans, a middle-aged women with red hair and freckles, staring curiously at their youngest brother. Eventually, her eyes widened. Turning to the man at her side, she said, "Honey, I think one of them's hurt."

At first, her husband didn't know what she meant, but then he craned his neck past Leo, who was trying to cover Raph with his own body as subtly as he could, and noticed the limp kid in the red-masked teen's arms.

Stepping forward, he asked, "Hey, is the little guy, alright? Do you four need a ride to the hospital? My car isn't parked far from here – Woah!" A little girl detached from his leg, running up to Leo so she could get a better look at one of the circus performers. Leo moved to herd her back to her parents, but his own fear of hurting her made it easy for her race past him.

Raph glanced down at the mini-human with a mix of confusion and apprehension. She reached up to touch Michelangelo's cheek, her little tongue sticking out in concentration. A hand gently wrapped around her's, surprising her into jumping slightly. As she watched, Mikey's eyelids fluttered, head lolling to the side so he could get a better look at the child. "Hey there," he said quietly.

"Hi." The girl ducked her head, scuffing her feet on the sidewalk with a sudden bout of shyness. When she looked up, the kind blue eyes stared back at her. Curiousity bolstering her confidence, she tried again to touch his cheek, but Mike again gently stopped her.

Pouting a little, the strawberry-haired girl asked, "What's the red stuff on your face? Is it make-up?"

"It is," Mikey agreed with a smile. "It's my clown make-up. Does it make me look funny?"

Giggling, the girl nodded. "How come your brothers aren't wearing any clown make-up on _their_ costumes?"

Leaning down conspiratorially, Michelangelo gestured for her to come closer. When she happily obliged, he mock-whispered in her ear, "They don't need any make-up, you know? They already look plenty funny. I have to wear make-up cuz I'm the pretty one." He pressed a finger to his mouth, like it was their little secret. A bright smile on her face, the girl hunched up her shoulders as she rubbed at the part of her ear where Mikey's breath tickled her skin. Over her shoulder, her parents watched, both looking worried and unsure. "Hey, what's your name?"

"Casey," the girl answered without hesitation. Raph made a low noise in the back of his throat that could have been anything from surprise to stifled laughter.

Snickering a little himself, Mikey said, "Casey, huh? That's a great name. One of my best friends is named Casey." Although it still hurt to move, he held his hand out for a handshake. "It's nice to meet ya, Casey. My name's Michelangelo, but you can call me Mikey. Michelangelo's kind of a mouthful." After twirling happily in her little blue dress, Casey shook his hand, stunning Mikey with just how small her hand was in his. "Okay, Casey," he tilted his head towards her parents, feeling another coughing fit coming that he refused to give into as long as Casey was watching, "why don't you go over and tell your parents about how much you wanna go see the Turtle Circus?"

Feeling guilty at the reminder that she'd run away from her parents, Casey peeked between Raph and Leo's legs to see their worried faces staring back at her. Still reluctant to leave, or maybe just worried that she would get in trouble; she glanced back at Michelangelo, who winked reassuringly.

Under his breath, Raph grumbled, "Come on, kid, get going." And then she sped out of their little group to be scooped up into her parent's arms. Deep down, Mike couldn't help but feel a little envious. Parents seemed like such a nice thing to have. Raph followed his gaze and squeezed him a little tighter, like he knew what his little brother was thinking, but also wanted to remind him that Mikey already had a family. A small, strange, sometimes dysfunctional family, that was also whole and warm and surrounding him on all sides.

It was everything Mikey had wanted, and he snuggled closer to his older brother, muscles still tense only because his body refused to relax.

Leo, who'd decided to go with what Mikey said and explain to the crowd that the "blood" and "injuries" were just make-up, announced that it was time for them to take their leave. The Turtle Circus website wasn't going to build itself, after all.

Donnie took this as his cue to throw down a smoke bomb.

Seemingly out of nowhere, smoke billowed from the sidewalk, enveloping the "circus performers." And for the first time ever, the turtles melded with the shadows to the sound of a hearty applause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a weakness for Mikey interacting with small children.


	9. Repercussions: Part 1

On the rooftops, the turtles breathed easier. Over a decade of being taught to avoid detection and attention had left them feeling chafed under the attention of the crowd. Still, it'd all worked out. There was a possibility that Donatello would have to make a fake website after he fixed up Mikey, but that shouldn't be too much trouble. All he had to do was make it so all the links led back to the homepage and the humans would figure the whole thing was a really elaborate scam. With lots of unnecessary property damage.

As they leapt from one rooftop to the next, Raph questioned aloud what his place in their circus would be. If they already had a Ringmaster and clown, where did he fit in?

Throwing a teasing smirk in Raph's direction, Donnie remarked, "You're the thing we hold back with a stick."

Raph bristled, then realized Donnie was talking about a lion. Yeah, he could live with being the lion in their little circus. "Better not stick your head in my mouth, Donnie."

"Ew, who would want to?"

They were only a few blocks from home, Mike was awake and talking. Things were looking up. However, Leo's silence and Mike's lack of contribution to the conversation didn't let them forget that worst wasn't completely over yet.

In a effort to get Mikey talking again, Raph said, "You were pretty good with that kid, Mike. Did you-"

Michelangelo cut him off with a wet cough and a choked, "Put me down."

After a brief moment of hesitation, Raph called out, "Guys, we have to stop for a second!"

Slowing down, Donnie pointed out that they were nearly home, but one look at Mikey's face brought him to a dead stop.

Fumbling weakly to get out of Raph's arms, Mike fell to his hands and knees, spitting up bile and blood and something gray that Don realized with an ice cold feeling of dread was a piece of his inner lung.

When it looked like Mike was about to topple over, Raph scooped him back up and took off running, his brothers close on his heels.

None of them spoke again until they landed right on top of the sewer entrance that led to their home. While Donnie lifted the cover, dragging it to the side so they could all climb down, Mikey turned to Leo with a horrified expression, mouthing, We live in a sewer?!\

Since he'd only just remembered himself, Leo scratched his head sheepishly, shrugging, "It's still better than the Foot Clan, right? Once Don gets you all fixed up, we'll go outside and you can hang out in the sun, okay? How does that sound?"

It sounded great. But if Donnie couldn't help him, Michelangelo was going to die somewhere dark and cold, with no sun, no fresh air, and no way out.

"Hey," Leo said, seeing the fear plain and bright in Mikey's blue eyes, "I'm going down, too, right? I'm not going to let anything happen to you." Though it felt wrong to say those words when he'd already let so much happen, they needed Mikey to go into the lair. Technically, there was nothing Mikey could do to stop them from taking him down there in his condition, but if there was anything Leo could do to make him less afraid, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

Clearing his throat, Raph tightened his grip on his little brother and said, "Is this going to be a thing now? Last I checked, Donnie and I were your brothers, too. Don's got a lot of new inventions he's been dying to show you, and you're the only one out of the four of us who can make scrambled eggs without setting the toaster on fire. We're definitely not going to let anything bad happen to you."

"You guys are hopeless without me," Mikey mumbled against Raph's plastron as he eased back into unconsciousness.

You have no idea, little brother, Raph thought as he watched Don jump below ground. The lair wasn't the same without its fearless leader and its perpetual ray of sunshine. Maybe that was why the lack of windows had never really bothered Raphael before. With Mikey around, bouncing off the walls and chattering happily at ice cream cats, they had all the light they needed.

Making his way down the ladder without jostling the bundle in his arms was difficult, but both Leo and Don did their best to spot him and keep him as steady as possible. Murky water sloshed in the tunnel, emitting a foul, musty odor that was going to take some getting used to for the two turtles who'd spent months living outside the sewers. Leo wrinkled his nose, eyes watering, but didn't complain. He'd meant it when he told Mikey that they could live anywhere as long as they were clean and well fed. And together.

As they ran through the sewers, not bothering with stealth, Don threw Leo a short, sympathetic look. "Don't worry. Your body will remember what it was like to live down here soon." Actually, he was right. The smell was already starting not to bother him as much. Whether that was because he was getting used to it or because they were moving out of the tunnel, Leo wasn't sure. He hoped it was the former, though.

They came to a stop in what looked like the entrance to another tunnel. Looking suddenly anxious, Donnie asked Raph if he ever actually phoned Master Splinter to tell him that they'd found Leo and Mikey.

In answer, Raph shrugged. "I thought maybe you'd told him."

Exasperated, Donatello whispered, "Well, what are we supposed to say to him when we walk in with these two? We can't just waltz in there."

"Surprise? What does it even matter? Get in there!" A small whimper from his unconscious little brother and kick on his carapace from Raph reminded Donatello that he needed to move fast. Steeling himself, he pulled Leo inside.

"Come with me. I'm going to need a sample of your blood. Raph, put Mikey on the couch. Keep his head elevated and watch him. If he starts to convulse, shout. If he vomits again, shout. I need to know about any and all changes in his condition, got it?"

Secretly happy that Donnie was taking charge, Raph grunted an assent. There were things only he could do, and if the that meant washing Mikey's face with a wet cloth as Don figured out a way to save their brother, then he'd sit back on his haunches and do that. Except… staying still didn't burn the worry away, it didn't help him deal with the anger eating at his mind like a parasite. The months they'd spent without their brothers had felt like some sort of weird purgatory, where all the days and nights melted together into one long, desperate search.

More than anything in the world, he needed Mikey and Leo to sleep in their own rooms again. If he had to walk past their empty beds one more time, he was going to lose his mind.

 

Leo was willing, for the most part, to let Donnie take some of his blood. Then he got one look at the leather straps on the chair in the makeshift clinic and paled. "Uh, Don?" He gulped, visibly nervous. "You don't have to strap me down or anything, right?"

Thankfully, Donatello took one look at him and shook his head. "Those straps are for when the patient is a danger to themselves or those around them. Since we've brought you here without any precautions whatsoever," a pointed glare in Raphael's direction, "I think it's safe to say that we don't consider you either."

As the syringe was sterilized and a tube inserted, Leo asked, "Didn't you guys wonder if maybe I was just faking being on your side? What makes you think you can trust me?"

"It's not like it didn't occur to us that the Shredder might have brainwashed you. And," the needle found a vein in Leo's arm almost immediately and plunged right in, "no offence, but you kind of are." Well, that was blunt. Leo touched the black mask over his eyes self-consciously. "Raph didn't really care, though. Brainwashed or not, he said we were bringing you guys home."

"And you, Don?"

A soft, sad smile on his face, Don glanced in the direction of the couch, watching Raph wipe away some of the grime on Mikey face with trembling hands as he said, "There's nothing the Shredder can do to you that I can't fix." It was comfort, though whether it was meant for Leo's ears or his own, neither were entirely sure.

As it happened, Splinter chose that moment to storm out of his room, angered that his sons had been out all night, that they'd left the lair without his permission again, and that they were making so much noise in the middle of the night. According to what little biology he still remembered from high school, all living creatures needed to sleep at some point. Even teenagers.

The reprimand on his tongue died before a single sound was uttered. His two missing sons… they were home. Walking as though he were in a dream, Splinter drifted towards the couch, where his youngest son groaned in what looked to be a fitful sleep. In all his life, he'd never seen Michelangelo look so pale, so drawn. Lines etched his forehead, dark circles wrapped around sunken eyes. What had the Shredder done to his youngest son?

Raphael caught the rage that flickered across his father's face and misunderstood. He leapt to his feet, a red cloth clutched tight in his hands. "Master Splinter!" Hanging his head, he started again, "Father… we wanted to tell you sooner, but there was never any time."

"No time for a phone call?" Splinter replied in a distracted, mechanical tone, his sharp eyes taking in the cuts and bruises on Raphael's skin, the crack in Donatello's shell, the angry blisters on his hand, and the black masks his oldest and youngest sons were wearing.

Feeling his eyes, Leo tore the mask from his face, causing Donatello to chastise him for moving. If he jostled the needle too much, they'd need to find another vein.

In his sleep, Michelangelo cried out. Raph placed a soothing hand on his forehead, his thumb moving in slow circles as he tried to smooth out some of the pain carved lines. He whispered something, too low for even Splinter's heightened hearing to catch, and Michelangelo sighed. With the sigh came something scarlet that bubbled at the corners of his mouth. "Whatever you're doing over there," Raphael shouted, "do it faster!"

"I'm going as fast as I can!" Donatello slid the syringe out of Leo's vein, tugged out the tube filled with the regenerating blood, and inserted it into a medical instrument that looked roughly like a copy machine that was about the size of a microscope. The tube clicked into place with a soft pop. Then Donatello plugged in a formula and the machine whirred, spinning and shaking Leo's blood until the contents separated into blood cells and milky fat.

Splinter's ears twitched. "Donatello, is there anything I can do?"

Sending a quick, apologetic glance his way, Donnie replied, "Sorry, Sensei. There's not much you can do at the moment. Stick around, though. If Mikey gets any worse, I'm going to need all the help I can get."

Raph jumped to his feet and shouted, "Don, he's getting worse!" Pinkish foam oozed out of Michelangelo's mouth as a yellowish discharge dripped down the sides of his head. At the same time, his body bucked, convulsing. A flailing limb nearly caught Raph upside the head before he used the arm muscles he'd spent so much time developing to pin Mikey's arms to the couch.

Rushing to his side, Master Splinter pressed his hands against Mikey's plastron as he spoke in soothing tones, "Michelangelo, my son, you are safe. You are home. And you are stronger than this sickness."

Leo eyed him warily, not thrilled that the man-sized rat the Shredder had warned him about was touching his little brother. But then, the Shredder was a liar. And Leo's own memories of a feral mutant clearly couldn't be trusted.

The worst part was that his heart reached out to the former man, as though it knew that he was a source of warmth and comfort. Hadn't that been his mistake before, though? He'd rushed into trusting someone based on a sense of a familiarity and it had nearly cost him his brothers.

Trust was precious and needed to be earned, not given freely.

When Leo didn't immediately join his father, instead choosing to continue standing with Donatello so he could observe him from afar – and maybe stab him with something sharp if he turned out to be a threat - Splinter turned to meet his eyes. His mouth dropped open, inhaling sharply when he registered no recognition in his oldest son's expression. He was studying him as though he were a stranger, a potential enemy, and it was like losing his daughter all over again.

How many more of his children would Oroku Saki take from him before he was satisfied?!

The machine in Donnie's lab pinged; a green liquid poured into the vial Donnie had waiting under a protruding nozzle. "Alright, just hold on, Mikey." Tearing the wrapping off another needle, Donatello punctured the seal over the vial and filled the syringe as much of the serum as he could. "Raph! Make sure he doesn't move while I'm injecting him! We're only going to get one shot at this."

Groaning as an elbow broke free and jammed into his stomach, Raph remarked with a slight wheeze, "That's easier said than done."

Putting aside his desire to keep a close watch on his brother's master from afar, Leo ran to help hold Mikey still when the convulsions increased in violence. By the time he joined Raph at his side, Mikey's eyes were rolling back into his head, revealing a bluish white that shuddered as the seizure continued.

Finding a vein in a limb that jerked with the electrical impulses in his brain would be practically impossible; the needle would tear right through the skin. Casting that plan aside, Donatello grabbed a shoulder, wincing at the sting from his burns, and pressed the needle down into the muscle. Slowly, the antidote drained into his little brother's body. Some of the tension eased out immediately following the emptying of the syringe, the medicine working faster than any of them had dared to hope for.

The convulsions tapered down into a weak, easily controlled flopping that then died down into complete stillness, so still even his chest ceased to rise and fall. Eyelids quivered, closed.

They waited for him to wake up and smile like he always did, clinging to the last dregs of hope as they slipped away.

"Donnie," Raph said with a quiet edge, all the rage and worry he'd been bottling up threatening to erupt as he internally screamed - _not yet, not yet, not yet,_ "is this what's supposed to happen?"

For once, the purple masked turtle didn't have an answer. Donnie looked at the body on the couch and tried to see a patient, a problem he could solve, but all he kept seeing was an endless future stretching ahead of him with no laughter - no joy in it.

The pads of a furry paw came to rest on his shoulder, lending him strength as he bit down on the fist he'd shoved in his mouth and swallowed a sob, refusing to let himself break when the fingers pressed against Mikey's throat felt no pulse, no thrum of life.

But breaking down was the same as giving up. And he could give up on a toaster or a television or a bashed up remote control or any other broken thing, but not on Mikey. Not when he was sure that he was still fighting to come back, to wake up, to _win._

And Donnie had never fought Death one-on-one before, but with his family at stake, he was more than willing try.

"I'm not giving up," he gritted out, startling his family, who'd taken his silence as confirmation that Michelangelo was beyond saving. "I don't care if his heart isn't beating, we'll get it going again. I don't care if he doesn't have enough blood, we have three bodies worth of blood to give him right here. And if his body's too far gone, I'll build him a new one – a _better_ one." Master Splinter's expression morphed into one of warring grief and shock. He opened his mouth to interrupt - to calm - but Donnie shrugged him off, yelling, "It's not his time to go until I say it is and I say it's not!


	10. Repercussions: Part 2

Donatello was falling. So hard and fast they want to reach out and catch him, except they're all right there, falling with him. They're hurtling down a rabbit hole that runs straight through the Earth and they don't know what's going to happen when they reach the other side but Don's breathing hard and harsh, looking like he could save the world, watch it burn, melt into a wet puddle on the floor, or all of the above. He's teetering on the edge of a line they were never meant to cross, and Raph glances at Leo, waiting for him to break their fall, except Leo's been falling for so long he's struggling to remember what it was like to stand on solid ground.

Master Splinter outstretched a paw, concern for his son etched in his brow and a call for calm on his tongue. Then Raph headed him off, surprising both of them. "Wait, Master Splinter…"

Turning back to Donatello but keeping his distance, since he knew Don wasn't in the mood for brotherly pats or a squeeze on the shoulder, Raph said, "Tell us what to do, Don." Leo looked up, met Raph's gaze, then faced Donatello and nodded.

If they were all falling, then they might as well fall together.

Precious seconds passed as Don processed that neither of his brothers were going to calm him down or fight him. Relief and a small glimmer of gratitude filled him. As smart as he was, he couldn't save Mikey alone. Not in a way he'd want to be saved.

It was nice to know he didn't have to.

Feeling slightly more clear-headed, Donnie straightened up and barked out orders. "Raph, get the defibrillator from my lab." After a sharp nod, Raph set off to get it without complaint. "Leo, get my first aid kit. It's red, it has my name on it-"

"I know what it looks like."

Dismissing the comment like an annoying gnat, Donatello continued, "I need you to get a long tube. It won't do us any good until we get Mike breathing again, but the second he is I want to pump as much of your blood into him as we can manage."

Leo raced off, leaving only Master Splinter, who watched him, followed his movements, and not with the wariness of a few minutes prior, but with pride. Tempering his tone to something a little less drill sergeant-y, Donatello said, "Master Splinter, I need you to do thirty chest compressions on Mikey. CPR isn't going to help with blood loss but I want to keep as much oxygen flowing to his brain as possible. We need to keep his cells alive. But first," he dug through the pouch around his waist, pulling out the resuscitation mask he kept folded in a side compartment, "two rescue breaths. Once you've done one cycle, do it again. Keep repeating until I say clear."

Without replying, Master Splinter took the mask from him, fitted it over Mikey's mouth, and began pouring oxygen into him.

Only fifteen compressions later, Raph returned with the defibrillator clacking in his arms and Donnie had a stethoscope wrapped around his neck. Leo hovered on outer edges of the pit, knowing he'd only get in the way if he got too close. Still, he kept his eyes glued to the small body on the couch, waiting for a twitch, the barest hint of life in his little brother. It felt like being trapped in a moment, a breath, a nightmare. But if the nightmare ended with Mikey dead, Leo hoped he never woke up.

Moving in quick jerks, Donnie primed the chargers in his hands, rubbing them together as the machine whined. There was a ding. Donnie shouted, "Clear!" and Splinter leapt away from Mikey, his fur rising off his head thanks to the electricity thrumming through the air like a song, and the chargers came down.

Mikey's body twitched violently as the current ran through his veins and they waited, hardly breathing, as Donnie pressed the stethoscope over his skin and listened.

"Again. Clear!"

_Nothing._

Someone grabbed his arm, he wretched away from their grasp. "Get off me!" Another shock. One more. Just one more time.

Then he listened, imagined Mikey waking up, imagined him complaining about the cool touch of metal, imagined how happy he'd be to see them all safe and sound and home. Finally.

He listened.

_Bum… bum. Bum… bum. Bum… bum._

"Booyakasha," Donnie whispered the funny catchphrase like an answered prayer. He took a moment to rest his head, relief robbing him of his energy.

Mikey had a heartbeat. It was weak and tired but there.

Steady and keeping him alive.

Two sets of arms wrapped around his plastron from behind, a comforting weight on his back. A clawed hand rested on his shoulder, gripping it tight and hard, so present and real and trying not to shake. "He's alive," Donnie confirmed softly, like he could barely believe it himself. "He's _alive."_

 

They just had to keep him that way.

After they all took a moment to remember how to breathe again – and as they did they couldn't help but feel that more than their lungs was filled – Donnie gestured for Leo to sit down beside Mikey so he could begin the transfusion. It was possible that his damaged organs would regenerate on their own now that he was more stable, but that didn't change the fact that he'd lost a lot of blood. And new blood cells packed to the brim with the regenerative serum could only help speed up the process.

Leo barely reacted when the needle pierced his skin, and then watched his blood pass through the tube, silent, thoughtful, his eyes distant. Like part of him was still fighting to come home.

Donnie cleared his throat. "You know, Raph and I wondered – this whole time – what happened to you two. Do you-"

Leo quietly cut him off. "I remember."

"Oh." Donnie sank back, wondering if that was going to be it, then decided that he didn't need Leo to speak. He just wanted him to listen. "The day you and Mikey disappeared, I got into a fight with him." He rubbed his head, still mentally keeping tabs on Leo's health as the ashen shade of Mikey's skin slowly returned to a more vibrant green. "It wasn't even a serious fight. He was messing around in my lab, broke a beaker. I kicked him out, told him I never wanted to see him in my lab again." Donnie swallowed. When he continued, his voice sounded a little wobbly. " I guess he took that to mean I didn't want him hanging out with me. Or maybe he just needed a break. But he begged you to leave the lair with him. And I said, _Good riddance."_

Donnie shifted, blinking hard. He hadn't even told Raph about that. Hadn't mentioned it. Never came up.

He waited for some sort of response; didn't matter what, really. Silence stretched from seconds to minutes and Donnie slumped against the couch, head resting lightly on Mikey's arm.

"You're wrong, Donnie." Leo's voice sounded a little raspy, like he needed water. The kitchen wasn't too far away, so Donatello straightened to go get a glass. A hand clamped around his wrist and he stilled, raising his brow in a wordless question. Leo shook his head. "I'm fine. About what you were saying, Mikey didn't care that you yelled at him. Well, he did, but he knew you'd get over it. He just wanted to spend some time with me."

_"What are you talking about? We always spend time together. We go on patrol together every night."_

_Mikey puffed out his cheeks in a pout. "That's different. That's with Raph and D. Let's just hang out and be bros tonight, just you and me."_

_Warming up to the idea but not quite ready to reveal his cards just yet, Leo put his hands on his hips, suppressing a smile so his little brother didn't realize he'd actually already caved. "And what's in it for me?"_

_"I need to bribe you to hang out with me? Bro, I'm hurt." When he didn't get a response beyond a skeptical brow raise, Mikey looked sideways and muttered, "I'll do katas with you."_

_"Without complaining?" Groaning, Mikey nodded. "Okay, then." Leo shot towards the exit, leaving Mikey to catch up with him once he realized his straitlaced brother had just initiated a race without informing him. A race he was currently winning."Let's see if you can keep up with me!"_

They should have told someone where they were going. They should have gone as a four-man team, the way they always did.

Leo let his head fall into his hands. "We were messing around on the rooftops. He'd just showed me a backflip kick. Nothing fancy but he told me he'd seen it in a soccer game and he taught himself the move by copying what he saw on TV. Pretty impressive, right?" Forging ahead without waiting for a response, he continued, "We heard some guy being roughed up in the alley below us. I didn't want to interfere." A shrug. "If it'd been Raph and me out there, maybe I'd have felt differently, but it sounded like a mugging, nothing life-threatening or anything, so I hesitated. I weighed the risks. And because I hesitated, Mikey jumped into that alley first."

_Booyakasha! The Great Michelangelo is here to teach you punks some manners!_

"He took out the goons himself. Didn't even need me." The wistful, almost nostalgic element to Leo's voice hardened into self-recrimination. "And then he did."

_Mikey spun around, beaming triumphantly, to check on the guy he'd just saved. He'd been so focused on the battle, he hadn't even noticed that one of the bats he'd slapped out of the thug's hands had rolled to the presumably scared out of his wits human, hadn't noticed when he picked it up, hadn't noticed the way he smiled._

_Leo saw the flash of metal. Heard the sickening smack as it collided with his little brother's head._

_A breath passed and there was a knife pressed against Mikey's throat. "Drop your weapons, turtle, or you know what'll happen to the little guy."_

_Twin katana bounced and clattered as they hit the gravel._

His story finished, Leo forced himself back to the present, where Donnie leaned against his arm, a welcome reminder that he wasn't alone. "D?"

"Yeah, Leo?" Donnie yawned as he started pulling out the tubes. Now that everyone was home and not dying, he really just wanted to fall asleep. A glance to his right revealed Raph had done exactly that as he breathed evenly, with the occasional snore, one of his arms slung protectively over Mikey's shoulders.

Leo scratched his cheek, suddenly nervous. "Am I a good brother?"

Rolling his eyes without heat, Donnie leaned fully on Leo, eliciting a surprised grunt from the stubborn turtle. "A _good_ brother? Don't make me laugh." Before Leo could get the wrong idea, he pressed ahead, "You're the best there is."


	11. Recovery: Part 1

Silence draped over the lair, a soporific spell broken only by the welcome sound of easy breathes.

And Raph's snoring.

Despite the noise, Donatello was drifting off, his eyelids staying closed longer and longer as sleep overwhelmed him. Mouth quirking with amusement, Leo patted his cheek. "Sorry, Don, but we have to take care of your wounds first. Then you can take a nap."

Shifting his body so he faced his brother, Don grumbled, "Don't call it that. I'm not a little kid."

Leo huffed a laugh as he stood up to retrieve some of the bandages and aloe he'd seen in Donnie's first aid kit. As he rifled through the wrappers and packages, his fingers happened upon a large patch, perfect for sealing up a shell fissure until time erased most of the damage. One of the advantages of being growing boys was their shells grew with them, often healing the way a scrape on a skinned knee would. Of course, shells grew at a slower rate than human skin, a rate more closely associated with bone.

It would heal, but Donatello was going to need to keep his shell clean and covered if he wanted to avoid any unnecessary complications, which, considering the way Leo had to poke and prod him just to keep him awake, was not one of his priorities.

Once he had Donnie's injured hand splayed out over his lap, Leo let him shut his eyes. After all, he could do the rest. It wasn't his first time treating an injury. And it definitely wasn't his first time taking care of a wounded carapace.

A memory, far more recent and vivid then he would have liked, played over his head, making him shudder as he rubbed the aloe over his brother's blisters, the thin layer of skin over the clear fluid inside proving malleable under his fingers.

As raw as they were, they wouldn't do any permanent damage to his hand, so Leo carefully bandaged it and filed away a reminder to ask for seat belts and additional seating arrangements on the new and improved Shell-Cycle.

Shell-Cycle 2.0?

He should probably just leave naming things to Mikey.

After the wounded area was fully covered, Leo grabbed the edge of Donnie's carapace with one hand, lifted him groaning off the coach, "Sorry, little brother, I'm almost done," and ripped the patch open with a quick yank of his teeth.

Just as he'd suspected, the crack was a thin line, noticeable but not debilitating. Chances were good it wouldn't even scar.

After what seemed like a lifetime of bad news and poor decisions, things were starting to look up. With that in mind, he gingerly pressed the patch over the fissure, and sighed, relieved to see that it covered the entire wound.

Taking care of injuries was important, but from the looks of things, Donnie was in desperate need of sleep.

Mere seconds after he'd laid his purple-masked brother against the couch, Raph's free arm snaked around him, pulling him close against his side.

Frowning a little at what he perceived to be an invasion of privacy, Leo asked, "Weren't you supposed to be asleep?"

With one eye cracked open, Raph gruffly replied, _"I am."_

"Right… How much did you hear?"

Speaking lowly so he didn't wake up Donatello, Raph said, "Nothing you didn't want me to, Fearless." When Leo just stared at him, stunned into silence, Raph closed his eyes. "If you're just going to stare at me like a slack jawed fish, I do have some shut-eye to catch up on, so-"

"Thanks, Raph."

For some reason, his brother looked a little surprised to hear him say it, but knowing he had someone to lean on again… it made him happy – an emotion he'd come dangerously close to throwing away. Back in the Foot Clan, he'd begun unwittingly leaning on Michelangelo. If he hadn't depended on him so much, maybe Mikey would've trusted him to find a way out of the choice the Shredder forced upon him.

Not that he would have deserved that trust. He'd stood around, staring at the Shredder like a deer startled by the barrel of a gun. At best, he might have attacked the Shredder, hoping to get the serum away from him before he could destroy it, but by the time Mikey had made his move, his mind had barely even finished its first coherent sentence.

If he were there again, facing the Shredder and his sadistic game, with no third options and no sudden rescues, what would he have chosen?

"Stop thinking." Startled out of his thoughts, Leo looked up to see Raph glaring at him. "I know you and I know what you're thinking, but it's been a long day and a long week and just a really long time since I've gotten to sleep knowing none of my brothers are in some sort of mortal peril or…" he glanced sideways at Donnie, who Leo noticed for the first time was much thinner around the arms and legs than he remembered him being, features made sharp under his skin," or working themselves into an early grave, so if you don't mind, let's leave the self-blame leader shtick for later." A pause. "And by later, I mean never."

Settling down next to Raph, Leo yawned, "I don't know about _never_ , but I can definitely do later."

The dojo doors slid open, revealing his brothers' master. Sighing, Leo muttered, "Or I could do it now."

Master Splinter took in the sight of his sons gathered around the couch, his two youngest already asleep, and said, "Leonardo, I would like to speak with you in my quarters."

Fighting back a groan, Leo answered, " _Hai._ " All he wanted to do was fall asleep with his brothers. Was that really too much to ask?

Ignoring the feeling of Raphael keeping him in sight, Leo strode past the training dummy… and did a rapid double take.

The crudely drawn eyes were nothing new, nor were the comically large and bushy eyebrows, but he didn't remember a mask being drawn on the dummy, or cardboard spikes sticking out of its head and shoulders. Plus, the chopsticks sticking out of its hands were definitely a recent addition.

A ninja master was waiting for him to join him and all Leo wanted to do was curl up on the floor and laugh until his stomach hurt.

Somehow sensing the struggle, Raph smirked. It may not have been made with the intention of making his brother laugh – Shredder Dummy #1 was actually created a month before, when he and Don first realized just who was responsible for Leo and Mikey's disappearance – but if Shredder Dummy #55 cheered his brothers up, than it was worth a thousand times more than the man who inspired it.

He was still going to pound it to a pulp, though.

Shaking his head and suppressing a smile, Leo cast one last glance at the couch, imagining a chest rising in time to a heartbeat and the two little brothers he'd inadvertently left behind sitting in front of it, each of them leaning on the other.

Back when they were young, barely older than toddlers, and learning kanji, they were taught that the character for hito, human, was two people leaning against each other, and if one were to fall, the other would fall as well. It was a warning that no man could stand without leaning on someone, but it also had a different meaning: No human or mutant could stand unless they were leaning on someone, and unless someone was leaning on them.

Pulling away from the dummy, Leo felt a sudden sense of vertigo and stumbled, black dots dancing across his vision. He closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for the dizziness to pass, because despite an initial panicking thought that it was the symptoms of poisoning coming back, he knew it was only due to the large amount of blood he'd given without resting or replenishing his body.

Opening his eyes, he saw the ninja master in the same dignified position he'd last seen him in, except three steps closer than he'd been previously. His kimono swayed at his feet, as though he'd only just stopped moving forward.

Clearing his throat with a hint of discomfort, Master Splinter said, "Perhaps, it would be wise if we spoke in the kitchen, so that you may refuel your body as we speak."

Thinking he'd rather speak with his brothers' master in private than in a kitchen that could clearly be seen and heard from the couch, Leo waved off the concern, saying he'd grab a bite to eat after their talk.

A derisive snort coming from the Pit suggested that a certain red-masked turtle thought he'd made a poor decision. Well, his opinion was duly noted and going to be ignored.

With an air of reluctance, the ninja master turned towards the dojo, his paws moving soundlessly across the tile until they padded softly over the wooden floor of the dojo. There, he waited for Leonardo to follow.

And Leo shouldn't have been amazing by the smell of pine oil and sandal wood that suddenly saturated the air as he stepped into the dojo, he shouldn't have stretched his eyes wide in awe as he took in the beauty of the painted ninja leaping into battle against their armored foes… he shouldn't have glanced uneasily at the weapons, knowing exactly how much harm each could do to a human body.

There was a time when weapons were light, moving easily and gracefully in his hands. Now, though his katana weighed exactly the same as they always had, the feeling of joy he'd always taken from their sharp edges and smooth sides was all but extinguished. The days of swinging his blades jokingly, as though they were wooden swords in the hands of a child, had long since passed.

Unconsciously, he rubbed his arms, trying to work warmth back into his body. Splinter slid the painted doors open, revealing a barren room, empty except for a piece of cheddar cheese – closer inspection revealed it to be a phone - on top of a crate and a scroll detailing trees with curved trunks and a crane, all drawn in ink with long, sweeping strokes.

Leo observed him as he entered seiza, though he made no move to do the same. Still, the urge to sit twisted within him like a compulsion. The only thing that kept him standing was the question burning on his tongue, eating away at him every time he laid eyes on the mutated man, and he wanted to be standing when he asked it.

Once it became clear that Leonardo was not going to join him on the floor, Splinter said in a calming tone, "I know you have been through much, my son, but I am afraid I do now know how much. It would seem there are many things your brothers have neglected to tell me."

"It's not their fault!" Leo blurted out. When Splinter gestured for an elaboration, Leo continued, "They only suspected that something had been done to Mikey and I until today, and today they helped us escape, so there wasn't any time to tell you."

"Leonardo," Splinter reached out to his son and was unable to hide the flash of hurt in his expression when his oldest flinched away from his touch, "I have no intention of punishing your brothers. There is a wise Japanese saying that goes, "When you raise ninjas, expect secrets." Perhaps your brothers felt it would be better if they waited until they had definitive proof of your well being before they informed me of your whereabouts."

"If you had known-" Leo started slowly, paying close attention the way his mouth formed the words, "If you had known where we were, if you had known what was happening, what was being done to us, would you have come?"

Saddened that his son honestly did not know what should have been bone deep knowledge, Splinter said with a hushed voice, "Of course I would have. I am-"

"Don't." Leo clenched his fists, trembling with an emotion he couldn't place. "Don't tell me you're my father. I won't accept that." Fighting for control, he added, "A father would have found us first." One hard swallow later and the words flowed once more. "I waited everyday for you to come. And everyday I was disappointed. But the Shredder came. He took us in, gave us a home, and I thought, "Oh, this must be the person I was waiting for." A hollow chuckle filled the room. "I was such a fool. He was the one who put us on the streets in the first place. He stole our memories to make us love him and I almost fell for it." He gave a wet, choked sounding laugh, shaking his head as though he'd forgotten the ninja master sitting in front of him was even present. It was all Splinter could do not to reach out and embrace him, but he knew his son was not yet ready. If what he'd said about his memories were true, then it explained why his oldest now regarded him as a stranger. "Raph doesn't blame me and Donnie doesn't blame and even though it's my fault he almost died I know Mikey isn't going to blame me. If I don't blame myself, who will? You?" He spat the word out, hating it. Hating his own weakness and the building pressure inside him that told him he needed to find someone besides himself to blame or risk falling apart.

"No one, Leonardo, because you are not to blame for the machinations of a mad man." For once, the words sunk through his guilt and stayed, not brushed aside or explained away in the manner so many other assurances had been. They stole his anger away. "Hatred for others is a deadly poison, but hatred for yourself is equally poisonous."

Hands wrapped tightly around his plastron to keep him from shattering like broken glass, Leo whispered, "I waited for you."

"I know, Leonardo. And if blaming me can help heal you, please do so. If you do not wish to accept me as your master, I will understand. However, regardless of what you choose to believe, I will always be your father."

In the time it took to blink, Leo felt himself enveloped in a warm embrace, with the fabric of a kimono pressing against his face and two arms heavy on his back.

"When you were a child, I promised you I would always be there to protect you. I realize now that was rash of me. I would like to tell you that there will never come a time when you feel lost or lonely again, but those times will come regardless of what I say or want for you. I cannot recklessly promise you will always be happy or that you and your brothers will always be safe, no matter how much I may wish it, but I can promise you this: No matter how lonely you feel or how lost you become, there will always be a home for you to come back to."

Between the words falling over him, warm and comforting like a blanket, and the other, familiar scent of fur and incense, it was as though a missing piece of Leo had audibly and loudly clicked into place, so physical he nearly touched his chest to make sure nothing had changed.

Suddenly, the shadow that had comforted him when he was a child hiding in the dojo so his brothers wouldn't know he was afraid- suddenly it had a face, a snout, whiskers. Squeezing his eyes shut as more memories ghosted through his mind, he felt something hot roll down his cheek, and then a padded finger wiped it away.

With a cautious, budding hope, Splinter asked, "Do you remember me, Leonardo?"

Burying his face into the crook of his father's neck, Leo replied, " _Hai._ I remember you, Father. I'm so sorry, I-"

Before he could finish, Master Splinter gently hushed him. "Do not apologize, my son. You are here. You are whole. That is enough."

 

Once he'd gotten a glass of milk and a sandwich in his oldest son, Master Splinter sent him to bed. Well, he tried to. Leo immediately dug his heels in. "Even if I wanted to go to my room," and part of him did at least want to see it, just to see if it was at all different from how he remembered, though he was certain Raph had kept their rooms as unchanged as possible,"Raph won't go for it."

"He's right," called a voice from behind the couch. "I won't."

Master Splinter raised an arch brow, commenting dryly, "But Raphael is sleeping."

"That's right. I am."

Splinter smiled."Therefore, he does not have a choice in the matter."

Quickly changing his tune, Raph added, "Wait, you didn't let me finish, Sensei. What I was going to say was 'I am _awake._ '

Behind them, the toaster dinged, and the acrid smell of smoke and melted black fabric filled the kitchen.

Speaking slowly and deliberately, Leo stared at the burning, fiery lump and asked, "Raph… is that my mask?"

"One, even if that was the mask you came in here wearing, it still wouldn't be your mask, and two, that's Mikey's. Your's was accidentally on purpose shredded to pieces and shoved down the garbage disposal."

Exasperated, Leo muttered aloud as he went to fetch the fire extinguisher. "Sensei, is there a Japanese saying about not leaving fools alone for more than five minutes?"

"Yes, I believe there is, Leonardo. It is said to be a quote from a great philosopher with four teenaged sons and a terrible headache." While Leo extinguished the fire, Splinter moved around the couch to see a wide and completely unrepentant grin on his red-masked son. "Raphael, I am going to go into the tunnels for a moment so I do not do something I will regret." That wiped the smile off his son's face. "When I come back, I expect you, Donatello, and Leonardo to be in your rooms." When Raph opened his mouth to protest, Master Splinter cut him off with, "I would like to spend some time alone with Michelangelo, if you don't mind?"

How could he say no to that? He couldn't… he couldn't, but… he'd just gotten his little brother back.

Seeing his expression fall and taking it as a sign of grudging acceptance, Master Splinter assured both his sons that he would alert them the moment Michelangelo's condition changed.

As he watched them trudge to bed, he regretted his decision slightly, since he had never seen his sons look more miserable than they did as they trudged past him, Raphael with Donatello's unconscious, dead-to-the-world form hoisted up on his back. Unfortunately, if Michelangelo's memories had been tampered with the same way Leonardo's were, then it was for the best that he spoke with him after he woke up.

 

Leo stopped short in front of his room, uncomfortable with the thought of sleeping alone. He imagined himself staring at the ceiling for the entire night, dark thoughts and unwanted memories treading through their usual paths through his mind. There would be no one to distract him, no one to tell a joke or throw a pillow at him. All at once, the thought of sleeping in his room again lost its appeal.

Raph poked his head out of the room next to his. "Hey, what're you doing? We're crashing in Mikey's room tonight. I already set Donnie on the bed, so get your butt in here." One eye-ridge raised skeptically, Raph asked, "Unless you were actually planning on sleeping tonight? In which case-"

Not giving him time to even finish his sentence, Leo brushed him aside and stepped into the room. There was one difference in the room that he hadn't expected. "Where's Mikey's pillow?"

Scratching his neck, Raph replied, "Right. Your pillow's gone, too."

_"Why?"_

He moved away from him, clearing out a spot on Mikey's unmade bed so he could lay a hand on Donnie's leg. At the touch, their sleeping brother smiled a little, pulling his knees up closer to his chest.

"Three months is a long time, bro. Not all of us thought you were coming back."

 

Stepping outside into the tunnels, as Splinter had always planned to do, he waited for the underground currents to carry his scent, for the vibrations he made as he stepped into the water to reach what he knew to be lurking in the shadows.

Within five minutes, a serpentine shape detached itself from the wave, its scales scraping against the concrete. He tilted his head back slightly so he could meet its slitted eyes as it loomed over him in the dim light of the sewer.

Three forked tongues darted into the air, tasting it, and the mutated girl lowered herself, recognizing the scent of her father, and bowed. "Forgive me, Father. I have not yet found my brothers. However, sssomething has happened at the Foot-" She broke off, puzzled and a little unnerved by the expression Master Splinter was showing her. "Why are you sssmiling?"

Laughing quietly at her confusion, Master Splinter stroked one of his daughter's semi-sentient hands and said, "My daughter, your brothers have been found."

Immediately, Karai became more agitated. "Found? Where are they?" Water sloshed, waves lapped the edge of the sidewalk as her body moved back and forth, power and poison flowing through her as her body readied itself for a hunt. "We have to sssave them!"

"Calm yourself, Miwa. Your brothers are home. They are safe." The disappearance of Karai's killing intent confused her two additional heads, they nipped at Splinter, annoyed. Karai herself could barely believe that her brothers were safe and sound in the lair, just behind the door.

"Are they well?" Splinter hesitated. Sensing that her father was not merely pausing for dramatic effect, Karai hissed, "Father, please don't lie to me. What hasss happened to Leo and Mikey?"

Knowing she wouldn't be satisfied with anything else, Splinter told her the truth. "The Shredder hurt Michelangelo. Not recently, but many scars remain. And both of their minds have been tampered with."

Michelangelo… he had called her sister, accepted her into the family with open arms and a lopsided grin. And Leo… He was the first to ever see the person she could be, the girl behind the Shredder's daughter. What had the Shredder done to them? What had he taken from them?

Tail thrashing with agitation, Karai snapped, "I should have eaten that man when I had the chance!"

When no response was forthcoming, every part of turned curiously to gage her father's reaction to her outburst. To her surprise, he seemed almost contemplative. "Perhaps that is not such a bad idea."

"Father!"

Hands up placating, Splinter clarified that he did not mean Karai should try swallowing the Shredder whole, he had much too many sharp edges for that, but perhaps they could mail him a very large python?

A soft rasping sound issued from her mouth as Karai shook her head. It took a minute, but Splinter eventually realized she was laughing, and relaxed, allowing some of the tension to melt from his shoulders.

Like seeing the sun again at the end of an endless night, he had regained his two missing sons and heard his daughter laugh, and all in the same day.

Even if loving often came with heartache, and trusting sometimes came with pain, it was days like these that reminded him that loving and trusting and holding his family close were all things worth fighting tooth and claw for, even if it did seem to come with a lifetime of perpetually broken kitchen appliances.


	12. Recovery: Part 2

Mikey woke up feeling refreshed, the only thing amiss being a slight ache in his ribs, and wondered how that was even remotely possible. He could have sworn he was dying, that he'd shattered the only thing that could have possibly saved him, so either Donnie figured out away to save him, anyway – like he knew he would – or he'd died.

Tentatively, he flexed his fingers, willing the tingling pins and needles away. Saliva tasted stale in his mouth. And then he tensed, the echo of a scream reverberating in his skull, Mikey!

It's Leo. It's Leo and he sounded scared out of his mind. Was he all right? What about Donnie? Raph? Did something happen to them while he was out? Did they make it back home? He needed to know what happened to them.

His upper body catapulted to a sitting position, eyes flying open in a dimly lit room, and immediately he heard a shuffling of fur and claw on concrete. The first thought that entered his mind was that the sound belonged to one of Shredder's mutants, maybe Rahzar, and his hands snatched his nunchucks from his sides as he pushed off the ground, flipped out of what he hoped to be striking range, and turned on the… giant rat?

At his full height, the rat loomed over him. Setting his jaw, Mikey lowered his nictitating eyelid and swung his nunchucks like threatening wind turbines in front of his body, already focusing on keeping light on his feet so he could do what he always did when faced with an overwhelmingly large opponent and strike quickly, frequently, and repeatedly.

Or he could find something to use as leverage.

Besides the mat he'd been lying on, the room was nearly empty, the only other objects being a cheese wheel under a glass case and a picture frame. It was a picture of a traditionally dressed Japanese couple with their newborn baby. The man looked stern, shadows making his edges harsh, but the child and the woman were soft, almost as though most of the light naturally wanted to shine on them.

The frame was worn, yet obviously well cared for. If the mutant standing before him cared for anything, he cared for that picture.

The rat mutant followed his eyes as they darted towards the frame, an expression like horror creeping over his rodent features. It was the human expression and the complete lack of hostility that made Mikey hesitate.

Master - The Shredder had discouraged compassion for the enemy, but the rat was a stranger, not an enemy. And he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that told him touching the frame would upset the fur-covered mutant more than he meant to. He didn't want to make the mutant into an enemy. He just wanted answers.

"Michelangelo," the mutant said, clawed hands raised in a placating gesture as he stepped forward, "please calm yourself. You are safe."

Safe? Yeah, right. Never heard that before.

Whirling on him, Mikey shouted with his fingers curled tight and his knuckles white against his nunchuks, "And why should I trust you?! How do I know you're telling the truth? All anyone has ever done is lie to me and I'm sick of it!"

The rat flinched like he'd felt the lash of a whip against his cheek and Mikey dove for the object he'd chosen to take hostage. It was cold and plastic in his arms but it had to be important, somehow. With a _snick_ , he triggered his _kusarigama's_ blade, pressing it against the unwieldy thing in his arms like he could cut it in two at the slightest provocation. Trying to sound steely despite the little voice in his head that told him he'd made the wrong choice, he suppressed a sigh and said, "Tell me where my brothers are or the cheese gets it." He shifted the fake wheel in arms, his eyes going comically wide when a phone fell out of the top and clattered to the floor.

When the mutated ratman realized he wasn't going for the frame, his shoulders had drooped at little in surprise and relief, but now that Mikey had the cheesephone, his shoulders hunched, his brow drawn together in worry. "Please, Michelangelo, do not harm my cheesephone. It was given to me by my sons as a gift. It is very precious to me."

Fear and confusion pouring off him in waves, Mikey shot back, "Then take me to my brothers!"

Instead of waiting for a response, he dropped the phone, letting the mutant rush forward to prevent it from crashing to the ground, and while he was focused on catching the phone, Mikey ran for the door. He'd only managed to throw the paper doors open when a speeding green blur barreled into him, launching him off his feet and sending the two of them rolling head over heels across the floor.

A firm grip pinned his arms, a weight on plastron preventing him from getting up and kicking major butt. A low growl brewing in his throat, Mikey opened his eyes so he could find out just what sort of enemy he was facing and found himself face to face with Leo, the very turtle he'd wanted to see.

"Leo!" Mikey beamed. "You're ok-"

Leo cut him off with a stern look, now sporting a deep crease in his brow that appeared to be permanent. "What were you thinking?" Oh. Right. Of course, Leo would be mad. Mikey winced, preparing himself for a major tongue-lashing. "Do you have any idea how close we came to losing you?" And the next thing Mikey knew there were strong arms around his plastron, squeezing him hard enough to drive the air from his lungs. "Don't you _ever_ do that again, Mikey. I've probably aged about ten years in one night and I'm definitely not going to forgive you a second time."

And Mikey can't make any promises, because if it comes to a choice between his life or the lives of his brothers, he'll always choose them, but that's not what Leo needs to hear. So he returns the hug with all the strength he can muster and waits until his older brother stops shaking.

 

Once they'd both calmed down a little, Mikey noticed Raph and Donnie standing a few feet away. Don's chest was heaving despite his attempts to keep his breathing as quiet as possible, like he was still climbing out of a potent panic attack. Mikey raised an eye ridge in question and Donnie shrugged. "Someone whose name I will not mention," to his chagrin, Raph received a pointed elbow in the ribs, "moved me without my knowledge, and then someone else, whose name I also will not mention," and Donnie didn't dare elbow Master Splinter but he did narrow his eyes accusingly in his direction, "moved you from the couch to the his room without telling me. So, instead of waking up in a calm, comfortable manner, I woke up to hear you shouting with no idea where you were or what was happening."

Raph uttered an offended noise. "Excuse me? Was I the one who sent us to bed? No, I wasn't."

Master Splinter, who had so far not commented on the rather accusational tones his sons were adopting in favor of examining the wall, exhaled heavily and replied, "Though I may not look it now, I was only human once. Even I can make mistakes." He'd been so caught up in the good news, in his certainty that he could break through to Michelangelo the same way he had to Leonardo, that he hadn't considered that the fear of waking up in a place he didn't recognize with a stranger may have overridden his youngest son's natural inclination to see the best in those around him. Seeing the wariness Michelangelo continued to regard him with, the way his body curved around his older brother as though preparing to shield him at any second, Splinter apologized. It wasn't often that he apologized to his sons, mostly because he'd spent so much of his life trying to do right by them, so much time trying to be the role model they needed, that it was difficult for him to admit when he had acted in error.

Hearing his apology, the tension in the room immediately defused, emotions made sharp by fear and panic softening. Donnie waved a hand. "That's okay, sensei. Just let me know next time, okay?"

"There's not going to be a next time." Raph reminded him. "We don't go out in pairs unless we have trackers embedded in our teeth." Donnie fixed him with a flat look, since they had gone over trackers before and Raph had been firmly against it. With a firm harrumph, Raph muttered for Donnie's ears only, "I changed my mind."

If Donnie wanted to outfit the lair with motion sensors, lasers, flying buzz saws, and a moat filled with sharks, then all the power to him. Whatever it took to prevent another fiasco like this one.

Hands at his sides, Mikey waited, cheeks puffed out and huffy, for the rest of his brothers to claim their place in the group hug, and when he finally voiced this particular thought, the rest of the Hamato clan was only too happy to comply.

From over his brother's shoulders, Mikey saw their master watching them, standing as though he a place where he knew he belonged and now was afraid he no longer fit there. It didn't take much thought to realize that the mutant was afraid of frightening him, but no one deserved to be left out of a group hug because he was scared. Still, if Leo and his brothers had left him alone with the rat mutant, then they obviously trusted him, and didn't that mean he had to be the one guy who didn't?

But Mikey didn't want to be so afraid of being betrayed that he never trusted anyone besides his brothers ever again, and his brothers' master had already done something the Shredder would've never done in a million years – he'd admitted he'd made a mistake. He'd apologized.

So Mikey mumbled words into Raph's shoulder that curved the ninja master's lips into a heartfelt smile. "There's room in this hug for one more."

 

Two hours later and the boys were surrounded around the television, each fighting over the controls for an 8-bit video game Casey found in the garbage, when the doorbell rang.

Raph paused the game, glancing at the door like he wanted to set it on fire with his eyes. "Donnie, do ya think the Foot would ring the doorbell?"

"Sure, Raph. Did I forget to mention I invited them for tea? Let's hope they brought the crumpets."

Mikey chimed in, "I love crumpets!" There was a moment of silence and he asked uncertainly, "They're like pancakes, right?"

Standing up with a stretch and a yawn, Leo volunteered himself to answer the door while Donnie tried to get his security system to work and Raph twirled his sai. Chances were good it wasn't an exceptionally polite Foot ninja, but better armed than sorry.

The television blipped, showing two freckled faced humans, one with two familiar pillows spilling out of her arms. "April!" Mikey said, already scrabbling towards the door. "And she has my pillow!"

He caught up to Leo, peering over his shoulder to see what he was frowning at. It was a keypad. Twelve glowing buttons stared back at them. Leo made a frustrated noise and tapped out the date of their Mutation Day. No good. The keypad barked at them. He tried tapping out a number combination that spelled out Hamato. It barked again. Louder.

Donnie approached them from the side and tentatively said, "Why don't you let me try, Leo?"

"Just tell me what the code is." He wasn't in the mood to be treated like he needed help. Donnie told him six numbers and Leo inputted them, then stepped back to let the door swung open when the keypad chirped happily, switching from red to green.

And Donnie had wondered if Leo or Mikey would recognize the numbers, but Mikey just happily noted that the code wasn't April's birthday and Leo shrugged him off. It didn't even register that the code was the date they went missing on. Did they think it was a random string of numbers?

The door opened an inch and a red whirlwind came crashing into the room, enveloping Leo and Mikey in a tight embrace filled with pillows and bright colored fabrics. "I can't believe it," they heard a muffled voice say. "I thought I was never going to see you two again."

Leo recognized her before Mikey did, but Mikey loved hugs and squeezed tight, hoping she didn't notice that he'd squeezed a second later than usual.

It sounded wrong, even in his own head, but maybe they didn't have to tell her about the Memory-Erase-inator. Hadn't he and Leo remembered enough, already? They didn't have to make everybody all upset by bringing it all up again.

As he was thinking this, Mikey felt a foreign touch brush his mind. It was gentle, not brutally invasive the way the machine in Stockman's lab had been, yet he couldn't stop the yelp that rushed out of him, or the way he stumbled backyards, falling on his rear in his haste to get away.

Unlike him, Leo hadn't freaked out and made a scene. He'd gone a little pale and that was it. So the only one being looked at like he'd just grown two heads was Mikey. And then April's expression shifted from confusion to something else. It was the same expression his brothers made when he'd told them he couldn't remember them, the same one Splinter had made when he'd flinched away from him, and even though everything was going so well he kept hurting people and that was the absolute last thing he wanted to do but he didn't know how to stop.

A calloused hand in cut-off gloves reached out to help him up. "Hey there, little dude, you just gonna stay on the floor 'til ya grow roots or do ya wanna try using your legs?"

For one, terrifying moment, Mikey blanked on who this boy offering his hand was. Then, like a flip switching, the name Casey shot into his mind, reminding him of the crazy, hockey-wielding kid that stuck it out with them in a sewer even though he was human and could hang out anywhere he wanted, the kid that sometimes took Mikey out skateboarding when the lair got a little claustrophobic - and Mikey turned up his face like a sunflower under the sun, a huge grin stretching from ear to ear.

He clasped one three-fingered hand over Casey's, letting him lift him up until he was standing on his own two feet again. "Sorry, April," Mikey said a little sheepishly, rubbing his neck, "I thought I saw… a bug… on your shoulder."

April blinked, looking bemused, then surreptitiously checked her shoulder. "That's fine, Mikey. Don't know why you'd be so scared, though. Isn't Raph the one who's afraid of bugs?"

Raph scoffed. "I'm not afraid of anything."

"Oh?" Donnie lightly brushed Raph's back. "Then I guess you don't care that there's a cockroach on you right now?"

"GET IT OFF ME!" Frantically slapping at his back, Raph leapt off the couch, only to realize he'd been played. "Donnie, when I get my hands on you-"

Knowing better by now than to stay still when Raph wanted to pounce on him, Donnie vaulted off the couch and ran, hoping his hot-tempered brother would get bored or distracted before he caught him.

Wiping her eyes, April laughed. It sounded a little rusty, but it was genuine and she was so, so happy to have her family back. Then she noticed something unguarded in her two long lost brothers, and that was strange, because in order for her to spot something unguarded, there had to be something guarded. Since when did her brothers hide anything from her?

And yet, watching them track Raph and Donnie as they darted around the lair, they seemed sad.

She nudged Leo, drawing out a slow smile, and without any prompting, Casey slung an arm around Mikey, surprising a startled squeak out of him. They didn't have to say anything. Family didn't need words to say _you belong here._

 

Breakfast was more like brunch and almost painfully awkward. Casey wanted to ask Mikey about his cool new scars but got kicked on the shin every time he opened his mouth to bring it up, and one time when he opened his mouth to ask for the salt. Donnie kept avoiding eye contact with April, Leo would go from almost chipper to dour in a heartbeat, and whenever his mood took a turn for the worse, his three brothers followed suit.

And Mikey knew it was his fault.

Back at the Foot Clan, he'd had a hoodie to hide his shell, but now every time he shifted in his seat Leo could see the Shredder's handiwork and he closed up like a spring trap.

It was the worst. It got so bad and tense that Mikey pushed his plate away, saying he wasn't hungry, and retreated into his room. The door had barely even finished closing when five teenagers all leapt to their feet.

They all spoke at once, each voice canceling out the others, until Casey shouted above the rest, "Guys! Shut up for a second and listen to me!"

The others quieted down. "What is it, Case?"

Scratching his cheek nervously, Casey admitted that he wanted to try talking to Mikey. His sister locked herself in her room all the time when she was upset and it was always up to him to coax her out of it, so he figured his experience would probably come in handy.

After sharing a look with his brothers, Leo agreed. "We'll be out here if you need anything."

"Right. If I need three loud mouths, I'll shout."

He headed over to Mikey's room, wondering suddenly if he'd ever actually seen Mikey's room before. He was kind of a recent member of the Hamato clan, after all. And both his and Leo's rooms had been mostly off-limits after their disappearance. Well, whatever. It wasn't like that mattered now.

Knock. Knock. "I'm coming in, Mikey."

The door opened without a problem. Either his room didn't have a lock or he didn't care if someone just barged in.

Startled blue eyes widened as Casey strolled into the room, and it didn't take him long to see why. Mikey had a green permanent marker poised over the white gouges in his shell. He could smell the chemicals from where he stood.

Rushing forward, he snatched the pen from Mikey's hands, eliciting an angry "Hey!" from his little brother.

"Mikey, I've seen you do a lot of dumb things, bro, but that was one of the dumbest-"

"What's so dumb about wanting things to go back to normal?!" Mikey lunged for the pen like it was the one tool that could fix everything. "What's so dumb about wanting to pretend like none of this ever happened? I don't _want_ my brothers to look at me like I'm- I'm _broken_ or something. I'm not! I just…" He trailed off, realizing Casey was never going to give him the marker back. Instead, he threw it away and plopped down on the bed.

"We know you're not broken, Mikey. No one thinks that." When Mikey didn't answer, Casey tried to think about a way to get through to him. The closest he'd ever come to losing a sibling was when two of his ninja brothers didn't come home after a patrol, but… "Hey, Mike," he fell back on the bed, determined to stare the ceiling into silent submission, "if my sister and I were ever kidnapped-"

"That would never happen." Mikey's teeth clenched at the thought of it.

"Let me finish, will ya? If it ever did happen, and she got hurt, well, I'd pound the guy that hurt her 'til his teeth fell out, but I don't think I'd ever forgive myself, ya know? I'd always think that there must've been something I did wrong. Otherwise, she wouldn'ta been hurt, right?" He peeked at Mikey to see him staring back at him, understanding and dread dawning on his face.

"Are you saying things won't go back to normal?"

Casey shook his head, rearranging himself into a sitting position. "Normal for you guys is relative, but, yeah, that's pretty much it." A thought popped into his head, one that was so much better than coloring in scars with a marker. "You know what, Mikey?" he said with a grin. "I'll be right back."

Forty minutes later he cam marching back into the lair with a fluorescent orange hoodie. And it was just Mikey's size. "It's my little sister's," he said proudly as Mikey pulled it over his head. Stunned, Mikey asked if he could really keep it. "'course you can. It's too big for her, anyway. And now you don't have to worry about your brothers seeing your scars, right?"

In answer, Mikey hugged him so hard and fast they toppled over, hitting the ground in a tangled mess of flailing limbs and bubbling laughter.


	13. Regrets and Reconciliations

When Casey left the lair in a hurry, rushing out with a goofy smile on his face, Raph had a feeling that an idea had managed to somehow penetrate that thick skull of his. And with Casey taking care of Mikey, that only left Don and April for him to deal with. Paper plates rustled, glasses filled with water and orange juice were raised and placed down on the table in robotic movements as the two quietly chewed, each one too afraid to broach the topic that sat heavily over the room like a giant rhino – not Rocksteady, a different, less ugly rhino - they were all choosing not to mention yet still painfully aware of.

His big-brained little brother had a habit of pushing away the people who cared about him when he was scared or stressed, and for a long time, he'd been both. Constantly. The only reason he didn't push Raphael away was because Raph had dug his heels in and practically nailed his feet to the floor. He knew Donnie. He'd grown up with him, lived with him for as long as he could remember. It was going to take more than a few harsh words and one or two love taps to drive him away.

Before he could change his mind, Raph pounded down his food and whispered to Leo, "Hurry up. We're getting out of here."

All he got in return was a baffled look. A grunt of frustration slipped out as he grabbed Leo by the elbow and dragged him, protesting, away. Maybe now the two could sort out their issues and he'd never have to hear Donnie's depressed lovesick sigh ever again.

Meanwhile, April and Donnie stared after them, thoroughly confused. "I think Raph wanted us to have some alone time," April finally stated, saying aloud what both of them had been thinking.

The last time they'd really talked had been weeks ago in Donnie's lab. She'd seen what searching everyday without was doing him. It was driving him nuts. Even when she'd searched for her father, she'd at least known what happened to him. It'd never even occurred to her that he might be dead and she'd always had the turtles support when it came to finding him or creating a retromutagen so she didn't have to live with her dad hanging upside down from the ceiling, trying to feed her worms. But Donnie was breaking down and so much time had passed without the slightest clue. She'd just thought that maybe it was time to accept the possibility that maybe Leo and Mikey were gone. Maybe there was nothing to find.

It was the first time since she'd known him that he'd ever asked her to leave. It would have been better if he'd shouted at her, at least that way she could've stayed mad at him for shutting her out when she was only trying to help him, she could've sat in her room and stewed over what a jerk he was, but he'd barely even turned away from his computer screen, never even raised his voice.

Didn't he understand that they were her brothers, too?

Observing the remorse plain on his face, she guessed that he was thinking about that day as well.

Donnie squirmed in his seat, fingers absently twirling his fork. Enough time passed that April tried to broach the topic on her own, but the words stumbled over her tongue, sputtering out like smothered embers.

"I never wanted you to leave." Air rushed out of her as her shoulders slumped with relief, some of the tension flowing out of her. "Not really."

"But you asked me to." April lifted her head to see brown eyes the color of autumn leaves staring back at her. "Why?" She'd never wanted to hurt him. He'd never wanted her to leave. So how was it that both of the things they'd absolutely never wanted to happen had happened, anyway?

Donnie blew out a nervous breath. "Because I was scared, April." It was hard to explain it in words, but when she'd brought up the possibility that he might never find them, or that he might never find them alive, every cell in his over-caffeinated body had rejected it - the possibility, the thought, the words. He couldn't fully focus on the task at hard if part of him doubted or mourned. He needed to believe he was going to succeed, that they were waiting for him. And he needed April to understand that. It wasn't that he'd rejected her. It was that, for a spilt second, she represented everything he was too afraid to think about. She'd been a disease in a sea of white cells and he'd reacted accordingly.

Instead of replying right away, April nodded. Long, slender fingers slid reassuringly between Donnie's. "You were right, though. They were okay."

"April, I'm-"

She hushed him with a look. "Don't, Donnie. You don't have to apologize to me. I know how stressed out you were. But," cocking her head to the side, she finished with confidence, "don't push me away again, okay? I'm here for you. And if something like this ever happens again, I want to help."

"April, if something like this ever happens again, I'm going to need all the help I can get just to stay sane."

It wasn't the most comforting thing he could have said. In fact, it just made her worry, and more determined than ever to stay by his side. As long as her heart thumped in her chest and her lungs worked, the Shredder was never going to lay another hand on her brothers. Not if he wanted to keep it.

 

Compared to the beds at the Foot Clan, Mikey's bed felt like a cloud made of melted marshmallows. Normally, he'd be all over that, but as he stared at the shifting shadows on the ceiling, one fingers absentmindedly tracing the foot symbol still engraved on his shruiken - he hadn't traded them in for the Hamato flower yet – the softness of the mattress was uncomfortable, borderline maddening.

He wanted his mask back. And not the orange one. That was still in the pouch on his belt. Leo hadn't asked for his back yet so Mikey made a mental note to give it to him in the morning.

And, yeah, he knew why Raph decided roasting his mask was the best course of action. It represented loyalty to the Foot, to the Shredder, and Mikey wasn't down with that, either. But he'd earned his weapons, his mask, his place in the Foot Clan.

They hadn't been handed to him; he hadn't been born into it. Not even having Leo as his brother had helped. The mask was the only sign of acceptance the Shredder had ever given him.

But why should it matter? It shouldn't. It _didn't_. The Shredder was the enemy. A bad guy. A super bad guy.

The shadows coalesced into the form of an old man on the ground, clutching his stomach in pain. They moved again and Mikey saw a truck full of mutagen. Who knew what the Foot was doing with the mutagen they'd stolen? Was the old man okay? Things had just happened and the "punishment" had shined so brightly in his head for so long that the reason he'd been punished in the first place had faded, dull in comparison.

Alone in his room, Mikey couldn't help but remember that, for a while, he'd been a bad guy, too.

It was way too much. He needed a distraction.

In one fluid motion he went from flat on his bed to standing, one hand poised over the doorknob.

He hadn't run to sleep in Leo's room since… Actually, it wasn't that long ago. He'd stuck into Leo's bed after the first Kraang invasion. It was the first time he'd ever seriously believed his older brother could die.

It was a startling revelation, because if he could- if fearless, invincible Leo could die… then they all could.

Still, he wasn't a baby. He couldn't go running to his brothers every night just because he was a little bit depressed or guilty. Raph never ran to sleep with him or Leo or Donnie in the middle of the night.

So, he let his hand drop… and raised it right back up. Without thinking or caring about the amount of noise he was making, he yanked the door open, sucking in a sharp breath when he spotted Leo standing in the hallway, one of his hands hovering where the doorknob had been seconds before.

"Um…" Shaking off the awkward feeling of having been caught reaching into a cookie jar, Leo lifted a pillow in front of him, dangled it, and said, "Wanna have a sleep over?"

 

_Well, so much for sneaking in._

He hadn't expected Mikey to be awake. Standing in the doorway with his pillow clutched in a death grip, he actually felt extremely foolish, and was glad the dim lighting meant that Mikey couldn't see his face all that well.

Had he somehow woken him up? Nah. A meteor crashing three feet from his bed couldn't wake Mikey up.

His brain blanked on what to say so he went with the first words that slid over his tongue, "Wanna have a sleep over?"

Mikey blinked at him in confusion. Maybe leaping for joy was a little much considering how late it was, but he'd expected him to be at least a little thrilled at the prospect. Not that he was an angel to share a room with but,…

In the dark, Mikey's face lit up like a firework. "You mean it, Leo?"

He relaxed. "Well? Are you going to let me in or am I going to be forced to sleep in the hallway?"

With an air of sheepishness, Mikey sidestepped to let him in and Leo made a beeline straight for the bed. He hadn't slept in two days, so he crawled over the covers one leg at a time and tucked himself in.

It all happened so quickly that Mikey was still standing by the door, gawking slightly, when Leo slipped from wakefulness to sleeping with all the speed and grace of a feather falling through the sky.

So he didn't wake his brother, Mikey tiptoed quietly through the mess of Crognard and Silver Sentry comics Leo had so easily avoided and clambered into bed next to him. Their shells pressed against each other, a feeling of warmth spreading through the thin fabric of his new hoodie that chased most of the shadows away.

Later, Mikey decided, he'd find the old man and see if he was okay. He'd make it up to him, somehow. And as for the mutagen… Maybe they could blow it up?

Thanks to Shredder's little missions, they knew where it was being kept. Though it was possible that he'd already had it moved since he and Leo were no longer under his thumb, it was still worth a try.

His mouth stretched to form a yawn. With his mind focused on the solid presence at his back, Mikey found that nothing seemed too impossible or scary to try.

"Good talk, Leo," Mikey muttered into his pillow as he closed his eyes for the last time until morning.

 

By the time his internal clock woke him, Mikey was the only turtle sleeping in his bed, a gaping absence at his back letting him know that he was alone before he even opened his eyes. For a while, he kept his eyes shut.

What if Leo was off training with the Shredder again? What if they were never rescued and that was just a dream he'd had? What if he opened his eyes to see four blank walls and an empty bed?

Panic rose in his stomach, climbing up his throat, and he pried his eyes open. Comic books carpeted the floor in haphazard piles, and a television screen reflected a turtle sitting bolt upright in his bed, making a big deal over nothing.

So it wasn't just a dream. They were really home.

He walked out into the lair to find it mostly empty. On the television, a man with short brown hair and a yellow uniform was being teleported down onto a rocky alien planet. Leo was sitting on the couch, his knees drawn up to his chest, and paying rapt attention.

"What is this?" Mikey asked as he vaulted over the couch to sit with him.

Leo gave a little jolt, still pretty jumpy despite a good night's rest. Raph was working out in his room, Master Splinter was meditating, and Donnie was still asleep, so he really hadn't expected to see anyone. "Oh. Good morning, Mikey. This show's called Space Heroes. I used to watch it all the time."

Another man in red followed the first through the beam, a gun or a laser gripped tightly in his hand. He looked younger than the first. Smaller, too. He might've been a new recruit in his late teens or early twenties.

"You remember this?" Mikey had spent a few hours pouring over his comic books the day before, ecstatic, because if the holes in his memories had any upsides, it was getting to reread all his hundreds of comics like it was the first time. Except fifteen pages in and he already knew the ending. And having the endings spoiled by his own traitorous brain wasn't half as fun as it sounded.

The guy in the red shirt screamed girlishly as a squared-shaped flying saucer picked him up and carried him away. Going by the painfully cheesy dialogue, the guy in the dull yellow was Captain Ryan. He didn't seem all that choked up about losing his new recruit.

Leo hesitated, looking a little reluctant to admit that some of his most precious memories were of sitting in the Pit watching an afternoon cartoon that was technically for children. Of course, that was completely ridiculous. What comic book collector would make fun of someone for enjoying a cartoon? Cartoons were like, well, like moving comics.

Finally, he nodded. "The ending's starting to come back to me." Mikey smiled. If this was all it took for their messed up memories to recover, then they'd be good as new in no time flat!

Yet another high-pitched scream came rushing out of the television's speakers. The red-shirted guy was being hit with some sort of lightning bolt-shaped ray. He blinked a few times, dazed, then looked up to the alien in the tattered cloak holding the gun and asked, "Who am I? Where am I? Who are you?"

"I am your master," the alien rasped, thunder clapping in the distance to emphasize the drama of the scene. "Captain Ryan abandoned you, he left you to die, but I have decided to take you in. Serve me well, human."

Apprehension settled in the pit of Mikey's stomach. He snuck a glance at Leo. "Wanna watch something else?"

No answer. So, was that a _No_ , then? Dang it, Leo, use your words.

Captain Ryan burst into the alien's headquarters with a few of his friends and boomed, "Bring back…" He took a moment to remember what the name of the latest kidnapped redshirt was, "Justin. Bring him back or I'll give the order and my crew will blow a large crater in this tiny planet."

The alien cackled, though what was so funny about someone threatening to blow up his planet was, Mikey didn't have the slightest clue. "Your Justin is now my apprentice. And he doesn't want to return to you."

From behind the alien stepped Justin, all decked out in a black cape that flowed in a non-existent wind and red contact lenses. Well, okay, he was a cartoon so they probably weren't contact lenses, but brainwashing or whatever it was the alien did to him didn't turn eyes red. Pepper spray did, though. And twenty-four hours of straight video games.

Before evil Justin could even open his mouth, Captain Ryan ordered, "Set phasers to lethal. Fire!" And both Justin and the alien collapsed to the ground. Very much dead.

"You did everything you could, Captain," one of his friends assured him. However, Mikey vehemently disagreed. Sure, it was just a TV show, all similarities to people, places, or events were completely coincidental, but Raph and Don had done everything they could to bring them back. Unlike Captain Ryan, giving up the instant it looked like they might have to put some actual effort into a rescue was something they'd never even contemplate.

Honestly, Captain Ryan should be demoted. How did he like the sound of Custodian Ryan? Or Captain Janitor?

The television flicked off, taking with it a perfectly good mood. "That hero of yours really is something, isn't he?"

In response to his grumbled comment, Leo leveled an inscrutable look at him. "Well, we've both recovered some of our memories thanks to it – you wouldn't have said that if you hadn't - so it wasn't a complete waste of time. And watching this reminded me that we should launch a mission to destroy Stockman's machine sometime soon. We don't need it to help us anymore, and it'd be a disaster if he managed to use it on anyone else." _Or on one of us again._

Mikey puffed his chest out. "Actually, you can check that off your list, Leo, cuz I wrecked it, already. The Shredder's tincan got shredded."

Still processing that one, Leo turned to gawk at him. Then a grin spread over his face, slow and sure and proud.

"Way to go, little brother."


	14. Into Murky Waters

"How about when Sensei taught us how to swim?"

"Nope. Go fish, Leo."

Raph, fresh from his morning workout, quickly finished wiping the beaded sweat off his forehead as he exited the dojo to see what looked like Leo and Mikey playing Go Fish. They were each sitting cross-legged on the floor with cards fanned out in their hands, except Leo was practically holding the whole deck while Mikey glowered menacingly at the only three cards he had, his body exuding so much tense energy the air thrummed and snapped like it was made of overwound guitar strings.

But even that was a front, Raph noticed, as their little brother's guard fell enough in the split second Leo's attention was distracted to let him see that all the anger, frustration, and deep disappointment was all directed inwards. They'd all been so relieved when Leo started taking a renewed interest in his old hobbies - hanging out with Sensei again, not out of a sense of obligation but because he wanted to - that they'd let Mikey fool them into thinking he was fine with his own lack of progress. Knowing that even after a week he was still only opening up to Leo – it stung a little.

Once Leo had finished adding another card to his hand, he said, "One more question, Mikey. I know you hate this game but try to think, okay?"

"It's not a game," Mikey grumbled. "It's a brain exercise and you know it."

"Yeah, well, we have to figure out how much your mind has healed so we know what we have to work on."

"A lot less than yours, obviously," came the resentful mutter. It was the first time Mikey had copped an attitude with Leo since they'd returned to the lair.

Opting to ignore that last comment, Leo asked again about the time Master Splinter taught them how to swim, but no amount of concentration brought back the sensation of waves lapping at skinny ankles, of furry hands guiding his strokes. Mikey knew how to swim. But how he'd learned was as much a mystery as the first five years of his life.

If one were to think of it optimistically, forgetting events from the first five years of your life wasn't that uncommon. Generally, long-term memories weren't properly formed and stored until the ages of six or seven, when the brain was more fully formed. But it wasn't so much the memories themselves Leo wanted Mikey to remember as the sheer amount of trust one needed to possess to allow another person to teach them how to swim. He wanted Mikey to remember a time when he'd placed his life in Master Splinter's hands without question, because he knew that if their family was going to recover, they all needed to learn to trust each other again. Mikey couldn't keep placing so much of his faith solely in his oldest brother, but he was tired of trying, and Leo overestimated just how much faith he had left in him when it came to his capabilities as a competent judge of character.

Instead of answering Leo's question, Mikey threw down his cards with an uncharacteristic scowl and stalked off in the direction of Donnie's lab, shoulders hitched past his chin.

Once he was out of sight, Leo deflated, gaze distant as he mechanically gathered up the cards. Torn between staying with him and following Mikey, Raph decided it was Don's turn to handle their little brother, flopped onto the couch, startling Leo out of wherever it was his thoughts went when he was alone, and didn't comment. Not on what he'd just heard or anything else.

He and Leo didn't need to start a conversation. That wasn't why he'd stayed. And if the silent, grateful nod Leo turned in his direction was any indication, the knowledge that he'd stayed was better than anything he could've said.

 

When Donnie sensed another presence hovering outside his doorway, his first thought was that it was Raph, likely carrying in his arms a sandwich and a glass of milk. In his words, someone had to make sure Donnie didn't work his nerdy self into the ground. He'd nearly opened his mouth to tell him he'd come out to eat in five when a nervous clearing of the throat crashed into his chain of thought with the delicacy of a sledgehammer.

"Hey, D, whatcha doing?"

He held his breath, frozen stiff with disbelief. It felt like a lifetime since Mikey had stumbled into his lab and pestered him about what new invention he'd been working on. For all the time he'd been back, he hadn't shown an ounce of interest in his inventions, but now he was peering over his shoulder, an unending fountain of boundless curiosity, and Donnie couldn't help but let out a happy whoop as he dropped his tools and swept his brother into his arms, spinning him 'round and 'round until he wriggled out of his arms.

"Jeez, Don, what's up with you?!"

Arms flailing with giddy relief, Donnie exclaimed, "You're in my lab!"

"Yes, I am! This doesn't usually make you this happy!"

He didn't get it. How could he? He didn't know what it was like to hear a whisper of a memory and wish it were real; to see the ghost of someone you wanted to see more than anything out of the corner of your eye, even though you know they're still alive and well, just not with you. He'd imagined this moment so many times, promising himself that he'd never throw Mikey out of his lab again if he'd just come marching in and be his annoying self.

Okay, maybe not _never._ But less frequently, for sure.

Once Donnie settled, the wide smile never quite leaving his face, he noticed Mikey peering around him, trying to catch a glimpse of his project, and stepped aside so he could see. Mikey let out a little gasp. On the table was his skateboard, the paint carefully touched up so it shined like new, but what really set off Mikey's excitement were the two blue rockets screwed on the rear.

"Donnie," and right when Donatello thought his grin couldn't get any wider, Mikey picked up the skateboard like he was carrying the Holy Grail, awe filling his every feature, "did you turn my skateboard into a rocket-powered Awesome-board?"

Well, that was one way to put it. He'd put a coat of paint over the original layer that was highly heat resistant so it wouldn't bubble and crack due to its proximity to the small rockets he'd installed, but he could explain all that later. "As a matter of fact, I believe I have."

He crossed his arms, waiting patiently as Mikey struggled to come up with words that could possibly encompass all of the joy he was feeling. Failing that, he let out a long, high-pitched squee. "We have to go and test this! Like right now, Donnie!"

Not bothering to wait for a response, he raced for the door, ready to test out his genius brother's new invention and bang out some sick new moves on his – gasp – Rocketboard!

Something tugged on his shell, jerking him backwards. Mikey looked up sheepishly to see Donnie staring down with a slightly amused smirk, one hand gripping his shell tightly to keep him from shooting off to the tunnels. For one, Donnie could've sworn he'd heard thunder rumbling earlier, which wasn't so bad but the sewers could be dangerous during heavy rainfall, and also"Don't we have sparring with Master Splinter today?"

Hearing that reminder, Mikey's happy expression immediately dimmed. "Do I have to?" Even though Leo had remembered Master Splinter with a little bit of prompting, Mikey still looked uncomfortable at the mere mention of him. Leo had admitted that he'd told Mikey they didn't need a master, but that was before he'd remembered Master Splinter, and the Shredder was the only example of a ninja master they'd had. So, yeah, if their only experience was with him, then Donnie totally understood why they'd want to wipe their hands clean of the whole 'master' thing. But it wasn't. And Leo knew that.

But for some reason, Mikey didn't.

There were other things, too. Less obvious but worrisome, nonetheless. Some gentle probing revealed Mikey didn't have any recollection of their first five Mutation Days. It didn't make him a completely different person or change his personality much, but they were shared experiences, memories their little brother no longer had access to. According to Leo, the Shredder said the poison attacked the frontal lobe; it wouldn't be hard to conclude that long time exposure had eaten away at the tissue. And while the regenerative serum in Leo's blood could regenerate that tissue, allowing Mikey to make and hold new memories, what about the old ones? What about the ones contained in the parts that had been replaced? Where they gone for good?

Not able to keep the whine completely out of his voice, Mikey questioned if he absolutely had to participate in the training. And if it weren't for the genuine anxiety, the tense of his muscles, Donnie could've pretended he was just being lazy, though the hours he'd spent in the dojo with Leo, practicing whatever new 'secret move' he'd been working on, would've made it a little difficult to believe. Instead, he laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, and said, "Yeah, but you know I'll be there. And after, we can test out the Awesome-board." "Rocketboard." "Whatever. And, if there's time before dinner, we can test out the new jet pack."

Mikey's eyes grew to three times their size as he mouthed, _Jet pack?_

 

Master Splinter had hoped time and rest would heal his sons in ways words could not, however, seven days had passed now and they still seemed to be divided into pairs. That wasn't to say they weren't trying. He'd noticed Michelangelo bounding from Donatello's lab shortly before training, clearly pleased about something that would almost certainly result in something being broken in the near future, and Leonardo had returned to evening meditation, as well as seemingly reconnecting with Raphael. Perhaps, it was not the slow reformation of the team his sons had once been a part of that upset him as much as the complete lack of recognition he saw every time his youngest son laid eyes on him. He knew Leonardo had shared a few stories of their childhood, hoping it would trigger something, but Michelangelo grew distracted and frustrated easily. Leonardo knowing a past he didn't confused and angered him, which made his oldest reluctant to continue any further, for fear of pushing him away.

It wasn't the strength of their bond, reformed in isolation and strife, which worried Master Splinter. It was that they, in some ways, unintentionally alienated the rest of their family. The strengthening of bonds did not require the weakening of others.

He hoped a rudimentary sparring match would remind them of that.

As he paced with his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his sons kneeled in a line. There was no set order to the line, not by age or skill, but Michelangelo and Leonardo had developed a habit of gravitating towards each other, which, Splinter was pleased to see, did not prevent Michelangelo from seating himself next to Donatello this morning. A fact which had not escaped Donatello himself, judging by the lightness in his aura.

However, while the side of himself Michelangelo reserved for his brothers was almost always playful and bright, the stare which met him was borderline mutinous. While seeing his brothers respect and obey their master kept him outwardly docile, his lack of understanding towards why they respected him so stirred suspicion in him.

Perhaps, that was what Splinter hated most about what Oroku Saki had taught his sons. The Michelangelo he had raised would not have been capable of holding such suspicion and doubt for so long. The Shredder had taught him how.

"It has been seven days since this family became whole once more. Now, my sons, it is time to once again combine your individual talents. Become the team you were always meant to be." One could only hope this was the right thing to do.

The moment he informed them that they would begin sparring, Michelangelo stood up with a sigh, crossed the dojo, and turned to face them, resigned determination clear in the set of his shoulders.

"Uh, Mike?" Raph asked. "What do ya think you're doing?"

Mikey blinked, his already drawn weapons lowering. "Well, it's a spar, isn't it? You and Donnie against me, right?"

Raph climbed to his feet, his hands itching to draw his own weapons. "Oh? You think you can take the both of us, is that it?"

Splinter shot him a look sharper than a razor's edge but Mikey just shrugged in response, saying easily, "I won't know unless I try."

"He's used to fighting two on ones," Leo explained quickly, before an actual fight could break out. "Shredder trained me personally while Mike fought Xever and Rahzar."

Mildly offended by the the astonished looks the news garnered, Mikey muttered in his own defense, "I did beat them a couple times. It's not like all they did was whack my tail."

And Raph thought he'd wanted to kill the Shredder before. Now he was pretty sure he was going to spend the entire night dreaming about all the holes he was going to punch in him next time they met. He didn't want to kill the Shredder, anymore. He wanted him to suffer, he wanted him to live as long as possible in so much agony he couldn't even think straight, and all of his thoughts were colored in pulsing, angry red.

Vengeful? Please. The Shredder didn't even know the meaning of the word. You had to care about someone other than yourself first. But that was okay. Raph was more than willing to be his master in that regard.

Master Splinter called a now clearly agitated Mikey back over to their side of the dojo. "Michelangelo, this spar will not be you against your brothers."

"Then do we get to pair up?" He said, casting a hopeful look at Leo.

"No. It will be a fight to the last man."

Mikey's breath hitched, Stockman's words echoing in his head, the sight of Donnie unarmed and Raph half-drowned flashing behind his eyelids, so real he could hear the sound of water lapping up against the tile. This was just another trick, another ploy to make them fight each other.

"What if I say, 'No? What if I don't want to fight?" He rolled the words in his mouth like marbles, spitting them each out slowly, deliberately.

Leo sensed the danger before the others, saw it in the way his little brother tensed, and opened his mouth to shout a warning, but Master Splinter, forgetting for a brief moment that he was not merely speaking to a willful child, said, "But you must."

Three words. Completely innocuous on their own, and yet with the right frame of mind, they can ring just as loudly as an order. To say someone must do something was the same as saying they didn't have a choice.

Mikey flinched away, edging towards the door with a wild, trapped look in his eyes. "I knew it." His voice cracked as he blinked hard to keep his vision clear, anger, disappointment, and fear clouding his thoughts until a storm raged in his heart. "I knew it. You're just like him. You want me to fight my brothers. You want to make me to hurt people."

"No." Splinter shook his head, desperately trying to reach out to him. "I simply wish to help you achieve balance."

But Michelangelo wasn't listening. While physically he was still present, mentally he was standing in another room, facing a very different master. "I'm not like you," he said in a whisper. Gradually, his voice rose. "I can't bury all my feelings and act like I'm some sort of robot. I don't want to. Not only that, I don't want to be like you. I don't want to be anything like you, because you're a lonely piece of empty metal that thinks I can be some perfect soldier in some perfect mutant army even though I CAN'T, MASTER SHREDDER!"

He stopped to try to catch his breath, noticed that Raph was about seconds away from clapping a hand over his mouth, and pushed him away, snapping, _"What?!"_

Then he saw the expression on Splinter's face, and it forced him to realize that everything he'd just said, he'd said to the wrong person. One hand outstretched, Splinter stood with his ears pressed against to his head, his mouth slightly ajar, as though he were frozen in ice a moment before he could begin speaking. Somehow, Mikey knew he'd been about to say his name.

Michelangelo. It was the he hadn't wanted anyone to use, not even the Shredder, because someone he loved had given it to him and only they used it in full. Someone warm, someone who smelled like home.

"I need some air," he muttered, remorse making him feel slimy. Before anyone could stop him, he snatched a purple pellet out of the front pocket of his hoodie and smashing it down on the ground, filling the dojo with purple smoke.

"Mikey!" Donnie leapt to his feet, coughing. "I didn't give you those so you could use them against us!"

Raph grabbed him. "Come on! He's heading for the tunnels!"

 

At least outside the lair there was actual water rushing and it wasn't just in his head. That was almost enough to validate Michelangelo running away from his family after calling their master a heartless robot.

He turned his head up to the storm drain to see a muddy waterfall pouring in from the surface. Which mean it was raining outside. Perfect. A perfect addition to a perfect day in hell.

As much as he wanted to get away to the surface, where he preferably wouldn't get captured again, he didn't want his family catching him flatfooted right outside the lair more.

The water spilled onto the sidewalk, lapping at his feet as a yell from behind made his decision for him. He dived into the rushing waters, intending to hide, except the current promptly turned him around, spinning him in wild, disorienting circles until he didn't know which way was up and which way was down.

The current dragged him out and under, kept him from gasping for air. On a good day, he could hold his breath for fifteen minutes, but he was panicking, precious air escaping with every scream the water drowned out.

Not that he liked to think about, but somehow he'd always assumed that if anything like this ever happened, if he ever died, it'd be with his brothers.

"Mikey!"

That sounded like Raph. Mikey opened his eyes a sliver to see red flashing above the surface. But… he could have sworn he'd heard… a girl? Where did she come from?

Something smooth and scaly wrapped around his foot, resulting in bubbles erupting from Mikey's mouth as he screamed out the last of his air.

Ugh. His chest hurt. His head felt like it was going to explode, and every time he thought maybe he could get a breath the water slammed him against the ground, grazing his skin, leaving new bruises where the old ones had started to fade. Whatever gripped his foot slid under him, letting out a pained cry in the dark when it was slammed against the floor instead, Mikey's body becoming a crushing weight on its torso.

Whatever it was, it was trying to save him.

It thrashed in an attempt to reach the sides, and a sound like a blade being dragged over stone echoed in the tunnels.

The reflex - the 'I'm going to open my mouth and breath no matter what' reflex - was building, threatening to take over. But Mikey held off, he held on. Because he'd rather explode then give up. Giving up was the same as abandoning his family, and he couldn't let the last memory they had of him be him hurting someone they cared about, someone they trusted, and all because he hadn't trusted them. If he had, he would've believed them when they said Master Splinter would never hurt them.

Wasn't faith supposed to be what he was good at?

Shadows crawled into his vision at the same time the sound of the thunder and roar of the waves began to sound distant, feel distant, like it was all happening to somebody else.

If they were slowing down or speeding up, he couldn't tell. But he wasn't going to open his mouth. He wasn't going to let the water in. He just hoped whoever was hoping him wasn't dying, too. He didn't know how to save them or even have enough energy to tell them to let him go. Yet even as his own strength faded, the arm around him never lost its grip.

And then he was flying.

 

Raph was already heading towards the door once he noticed Mikey was about to bolt, thinking he could head him off. The smoke bomb caught him off-guard, though. He'd have to thank Donnie for letting their clearly emotionally stable little brother get his hands on those later.

Even with the element of surprise, the smoke bomb could only delay them for so long. They'd spent years training in the dojo, they knew how to get around it blind. Especially considering wearing blindfolds was sometimes a facet of their training.

He was out of the lair so fast he couldn't remember how he got there, like his mind had just blanked. Not that it mattered. Mike was standing right on the outskirts of what looked like a raging death river, and Raph knew he wasn't right in the head because he actually seemed to be contemplating plunging into it. "Mikey!" Outside, lightning flashed, etching out the fear on his face in blacks and a wash of white light, shrinking his pupils down to pinpricks.

Raph reached out to grab him by the shell, only for him to jump, never even realizing he was there.

Then it got worse.

The storm water picked him out and carried him away like he was made of nothing 'cept stuffing and yarn. Raph started running to keep up, fighting to keep his brother in sight, wracking his brain for some way he could drag him to the side. There was debris floating next to Mikey, branches and bottles and torn up cans. Nothing to keep him out of sight but enough to deal out some serious cuts and bruises if they hit hard enough, or if a sharp edge hit just the right spot.

Every time Mikey's head went under Raph's stomach dropped, heart sunk so low he might as well have been digesting it.

There was a splash and a ripple in the water that went against the current, heading towards Mikey. It could've been anything. A Squirrelnoid. Leatherhead. Slash. With their luck, it could've easily been a giant boa constrictor that some snot-nosed punk flushed down the toilet twenty years ago when it got too big to keep as a pet.

He gnashed his teeth, debating whether or not he could just throw caution to the wind and dive in, and leaning very heavily towards doing just that, when a snake's head came shooting from the surface in a high arch, narrowly missing his feet as it latched onto the concrete with its teeth. It didn't stop, though. The momentum of its main body dragged it across the concrete, the edges of its teeth grinding down to hot stubs of bone as Raph watched. He was grateful, though. The friction created by the snake dragging its head across the sidewalk was slowing its main body down, and though it made him nervous to see a snake tail the size of tree trunk wrapped around his little brother, he knew that purple armored exoskeleton. He'd seen it before. He'd been chasing it for longer than he cared to think about. And he didn't know what made her decide to pop up in the sewers but one thing was clear: It was their lucky day.

There was a drainage pipe approaching that would drag them out to sea, but Karai's other arm latched onto the other side of the tunnel, turning her into a dam in the flow as the water crashed against her head and torso, bringing all the branches and trash with it. A strangled cry burst from her jaws and her tail flicked out of the water, a skillfully aimed toss launching Mikey into the air so he fell right into Raph's outstretched arms.

One by one her arms snapped from the sides. She managed to spare a relieved glance for her brothers before her head went under.

"Karai!"

"Miwa!"

It figured that Leo and Splinter would show up once it was too late to save her. She'd already saved herself. Another high wave washed over the sidewalk on the opposite side of the tunnel, completely obscuring it from view. When the water receded, Karai's exhausted form lay coiled on the concrete.

She was exhausted, with some of her teeth cracked and broken, but she was alive. Slowly, she raised her head, her gaze finding her father first and then settling on Leo. Gratitude thrumming in the space between residual panic and icy fear, he ducked a nod.

"Thank you."

Having their own little guardian angel hanging out in the sewers – waiting for when they inevitably found themselves in over their heads – was a relief, but having their sister back where she belonged, with them, would have been so much better. Karai, reading his thoughts, shook her head. And he knew how afraid she was of hurting them, knew like it was his own fear because it was, and he carried it with him everyday, but he also knew she wouldn't do it. She'd never hurt them. If only she could believed in herself the way he believed in her.

Another high wave passed, blocking her from view for a breadth of time that stretched and snapped, and then she was gone.

 

Raph clutched his little brother close to his chest, felt him cough wetly against his plastron, felt him shudder uncontrollably like they were five years old again, hiding from explosions in the sky.

Mikey sobbed, the sound tearing through Raph like a chainsaw, as he choked out, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't mean it." With visible effort, he managed to get Splinter in his sights. "I didn't mean it… Master Splinter."

Raph hushed him. "Hey, it's okay. Don't apologize for that. Apologize for scaring the living shell outta us. We haven't had you around long enough to lose you again."

Sniffing loudly, Mikey turned exhausted lantern eyes up at him, mouth turned down at the corners in a wobbly frown. " 'm sorry 'bout that, too."

Eventually, the occasional sob died down into the occasional whimper coming from deep in his throat, which then stuttered into hiccups, and even those eased into steady, even breaths as Mikey shut out the cold, focusing only on the smell of wet leather and the constant reassurance of a pounding heartbeat he knew even better than his own. Grumpy as he was, there was no denying that Raph was the world's best security blanket. Wordlessly, Donnie went back to the lair to fetch a towel while the others kept watch, each waiting for the rain to lighten, for the worst of the storm to pass.

Once he'd returned with their largest, fluffiest towel and a steaming mug of hot tea, Raph passed Mikey off to Leo. Leo took in the sight of his shaking hands, brow furrowed with concern, but Raph wasn't crying or shivering. He was furious. The second his little brother was out of his arms, red fell over his vision like a shutter, every inch of him howling for blood. He bit down on a scream so hard he tasted metal on his tongue.

For too long he'd been playing with kiddy gloves. For too long he'd felt the anger and swallowed it down, because it wasn't the right time, because there were more important things for him and Donnie to worry about than keeping his hot head under control. He'd dreamed about jamming a sai into the Shredder's dried up husk of a heart more times than he could count, and now there wasn't going to be any sleep for him, no peace either unless he turned that dream into a reality.

The rage eating him from the inside, it didn't belong with his family.

Taking advantage of Leo's momentary distraction, he shoved past him, narrowing avoiding Master Splinter, then sprinted for the surface. He was out of earshot before Leo could finished yelling, "Raph! Get back here, you idiot!"

Let them worry for a little while.

They'd thank him when the Shredder was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite TMNT writers wrote a story about the turtles going to the beach (I think) and there was a part where Mikey waded out into the water, which sent Don into kind of a panic mode because it might have been dark out and there's currents to worry about, but Mike just shrugged like 'Big brothers. What can ya do?' and came back to shore. In the author's note, there was a little tidbit about an alternate ending where Mikey nearly drowned, which would have been interesting, though the pure family fluff was also welcome. Some of us have black souls, though, so I decided to add Mikey running out of the lair in a panic and nearly drowning as a catalyst for Raph reaching his breaking point. 
> 
> There's only one chapter left now. Looking forward to working on some of those stories I've put on hold so I could finish this one.


	15. Into The Storm

It's never a good sign when the first sound you hear after waking up is your brother screaming in the dark. Mikey groaned, opening his eyes just in time to see Raph's legs disappear through the manhole.

It jolted him out the small amount of grogginess the warm towel wrapped around his shoulders had afforded him. He moved to stand so fast his head slammed into Leo's jaw, shocking them both. Wincing a little while rubbing at the new knot on his head as Leo gripped his stinging chin with both hands, Mikey gasped, "What's going on? Where's Raph going? Why are we still here?" Without pausing for an answer, he started heading in the direction of the manhole, only for literally his entire family to stand in his way.

Outside, lightning struck so close they could feel the ground shake under their feet, the flash of light and the thunder hitting them mere seconds apart. "We're not letting you go out there." Donnie said firmly. "Leo and I can handle this. You can stay here with Master Splinter in case Raph decides to come back while we're gone." He doesn't say it like he believes it. When he believes what he's saying, Donnie puts everything he is into his words, everything he's ever been. Now, he can barely look Mikey in the eye.

They know he's not coming back. Not on his own.

Defiance lit a fire in Mikey's heart as he shed the towel from his shoulders, straightening to his fullest height in the process, which still didn't hold much water with Donnie but at least this let him know that he wasn't planning on backing down. Not from this. Not ever.

Except Leo slammed a fist against the tunnel wall, cracking it, stunning Mike into silence before he could even get a word out. With fear and anger lacing his words, Leo stared him down as he said in a hard, flat way that made it absolutely clear he wasn't going to change his mind, "You're staying here."

Mikey drew up short, the protest he'd been about to blurt out still burning on his tongue. He clamped down on it, swallowed it down like a dose of acid he could feel irritating the skin in his throat.

It wasn't worth it. Leo wasn't going to listen to him, anyway.

He stepped back, knowing without seeing that Leo followed his movements, felt in the air the way Leo's muscles relaxed a fraction. "Fine." Mikey said with an oft-practiced tone of grudging acceptance. "I'll stay here."

Leo shifted his weight, suddenly unsure whether leaving him behind was really a good idea while simultaneously aware that every passing second put Raph in greater danger. Under the full force of Leo's suspicious gaze, Mikey thought innocent thoughts.

"Come on, Leo," Donnie urged, "Sensei can stay with Mikey, but if we're going to catch him we have to go. Thanks to the storm, there's going to be flooding in the streets, visibility is going to severely impaired, and-"

Leo waved him off with a touch of impatience. "Ok, I get it. It's bad out there. We've faced worse." Turning to Master Splinter, he added, "You'll keep an eye on him, won't you, Sensei?"

While Leo waited for his answer, Splinter caught a glimpse of some strange mix of emotions playing over Donatello's features as he observed his younger brother. At first, it seemed to be puzzlement at Michelangelo's sudden silence, his easy acceptance of Leonardo's decision, and then a creeping sort of certainty dawned. His mouth gaped ever so slightly, then quickly snapped closed when Leonardo glanced in his direction.

Splinter thought back to a time when Donatello and Michelangelo, as different as they were, seemed to function on similar wavelengths. Once, when a much younger Donatello had scraped his knee, Michelangelo had burst into tears, confused and frightened on a level that would suggest he had been injured as well, though there hadn't been a mark on him. And neither would fall asleep while the other was crying, though perhaps that was simply a trait all siblings shared.

Splinter had wondered if that connection had been lost, forgotten as time passed and other interests, hobbies, and pursuits took its place, but something told him Donatello remembered.

"He will never leave my sight," he said at last, and Leo relaxed, though only minutely.

"Alright, Donatello, let's go." He started picking his way towards the surface, painfully aware that Mikey hadn't spoken to him once since he'd agreed to stay behind, hadn't even said goodbye, while Don hovered for a moment, lingering with a gnawing uncertainty.

When he was certain that Leo was sufficiently distracted, he hunched close to Mikey's ear to whisper, "Make sure you wear a helmet."

 

Once they were gone, Mikey could not get back into the lair fast enough. Considering the whole mess had started with him falling into an underground flood, the lack of attention he paid to his surroundings as he bounded past his father nearly gave his father his third heart attack of the day. "Michelangelo!" he called. "Calm yourself."

Moving in long strides so that he could match paces with his errant son, Splinter reentered the lair in time to see a flash of orange dart into Donatello's lab. He stood outside the door, one foot tapping out an aggravated beat, when Michelangelo popped back out with a skateboard in his arms and a mischievous glint in his eyes. Having had enough of chasing the speedster around for one day, and perhaps a lifetime after that, Master Splinter plucked him out of the air by his shell, noticing with a wry smirk that his son had quickly shifted from his prior impish countenance to a droopier version of the puppy eyes he so often used against his brothers, usually to devastating effect. "Would I be correct in assuming you are planning on following your brothers, Michelangelo? Even after Leonardo specifically ordered you not to leave this lair?"

Abruptly, Mikey dropped the act. Going for something a little less cute and a little more casual, he complimented Master Splinter's traditional garb, temporarily confusing the ninja master. Though he had trained far too long to allow something as simple as misdirection to derail his train of thought, Splinter did think it was a good try. However, as it turned out, Michelangelo had a point to make. "You see," he said, "I'm actually a big fan of tradition myself, Sensei. And traditionally," a wicked grin curled the edges of his mouth, "I don't do as I'm told."

Having heard enough, Splinter set him down. "Oh? And I suppose you would very much like to honor this tradition?"

And though he was reluctant to worry Master Splinter again, especially after he'd nearly gotten himself killed, Mikey nodded without a trace of hesitation.

"Then there is nothing for me to do. I fear I must join you."

"No, you don't understand! I have to-" He blinked. "Sorry, what was that?"

Seeing his confusion, Master Splinter chuckled, "As I recall, I promised Leonardo I would keep you in my sights. I never said I would keep you here."

After a beat, Mikey grinned so wide and hard his teeth hurt, "You're the coolest!" He grabbed Splinter by the sleeve, fumbled with the skateboard in his free arm, and started tugging him towards the tunnel that would lead them topside. When he found his momentum was met with resistance, he swiveled around to ask what the hold up was. Didn't Sensei agree to leave? Why wasn't he moving?

"Slow down, Michelangelo." A furry hand passed over Mikey's uncovered head. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Oh. He'd completely forgotten the helmet. It really was a good thing Sensei remembered. Donnie would've skinned him alive if he came riding in on his noble, rocket-fueled steed without a helmet.

Keeping in mind that both he and Splinter would be riding, he skittered to his room, snatched up his helmet, and snatched another helmet for his sensei. When he returned to Master Splinter with the two helmets proudly dangling from his hands, Master Splinter had to suppress a sudden wave of dismay. Though he had always planned to follow his son out to the surface world, he had hoped testing Donatello's latest invention would not be required. Also, the helmet belonged to Leonardo. It was much too small and would flatten his ears uncomfortably.

For those reasons, when his looked at his youngest son as he held up the helmet that would undoubtedly mat his fur, his first inclination was too refuse. Then Michelangelo's smile faltered a little, the hopeful glint in his eyes dimming as he struggled to find the words to tell his son that he'd rather not ride with him, and Splinter flashed back to a long childhood of games and make-believe, afternoons where he somehow always found himself playing the part of dragon or evil sorcerer, where sticky hands clung to his fur shortly before bedtime.

Sensing there was similarly no avoiding this, he plopped the purple helmet over his ears, taking comfort in the knowledge that, at the very least, it would not be sliding off his head at anytime. Predictably, tufts of hair puffed out from the sides and the strap around his chin squeezed much tighter than strictly necessary, but it'd been ages since he'd seen Michelangelo so happy in his presence, so at ease. A little dignity was a small price to pay.

Once Michelangelo had his own helmet in place, they hurried out into the tunnels, where water dripped from the ceiling in haphazard places. Irritated, Splinter shook himself, though any attempts to keep himself dry would soon be rendered moot by the tempest raging on the streets.

As they made their way up the ladder, Splinter offered to hold the unwieldy object Michelangelo was struggling to carry as he hoisted himself up the ladder with his one free hand, but he vehemently shook his head. "It's okay, Sensei." He grunted as he hauled himself over the last rung. "I like carrying it."

Which was as good a reason as any, he supposed.

Deftly, he pushed the manhole's cover aside, grimacing as rain suddenly pelted his head from above, soaking his fur and drenching his robes. Then he leapt aside, holding an arm out for Michelangelo to grab onto as he clambered over the edge and onto the street. A quick glance around revealed no cars, no pedestrians. Everyone sane was safely inside their homes.

As Splinter continued to keep watch, Mikey placed the skateboard flat on the road, a bright smile lighting up his face. With one foot propped on top of the board's flat surface, he gestured for Master Splinter to hop on. "It'll be fine. Just hold onto me and don't let go. I'm an expert when it comes to messing around with Donnie's inventions. I got this." Once again, Master Splinter wondered if this was really strictly necessary. Ninjas did not usually announce their presence by roaring in on rockets.

Against his better judgment, Splinter edged his way onto the board, doing his best to hide his nerves from Michelangelo. It wasn't that he didn't think trusting Michelangelo with something very fast and likely explosive - something that he had no previous knowledge of - was a bad idea. It was just that – Actually, that was his main concern.

He squeezed Michelangelo's shoulder, flinching slightly when the boy let out a joyous whoop as he flipped a switch beneath the board with the edge of his toes. The board moved forward with a lurching start that evened out within the time it took one raindrop to hit the ground into a speed more akin to a launched missile.

Garbage cans, cars, and streetlights zoomed past them in indistinguishable blurs. Mikey screamed out a laugh, letting the sound carry as high and far as it pleased. They weren't scared or small now. They had rockets. They were invincible!

And though Master Splinter would've much preferred to squeeze his eyes shut for the entirety of the ride, after which he would likely melt into a quivering pile of goo, he carefully scanned the rooftops for his missing sons.

If Raphael was not in the middle of a perilous situation when they found him, he was soon going to be, because Master Splinter was going to make absolutely certain Michelangelo drove him home.

"Isn't this awesome, Sensei?!"

That was one word for it. Splinter could think of several. None of which he was willing to utter in front of his son.

 

It took Raph exactly three seconds to realize heading out of the sewers alone was a bad idea. Rain pelted his head like bullets, wind tore at his skin, and he'd barely even made it halfway down the street when he slipped in a puddle, landing flat on his face. If his anger burned as hot as it felt, that water should have evaporated on the spot. Unfortunately, all it did was cool his head.

He was running blind. That much was clear. For all he knew, the Shredder knew he was coming. Then again, if he headed back into the sewers because the weather was a little… intense, he'd never be able to live himself.

And if anything else happened to his brothers – something he could have stopped…

How could he look Mikey in the eye if he didn't at least try? Without the Shredder, maybe Donnie could lead something approaching a normal life, without always having to check over his shoulder for Foot soldiers. Leo could finally get a good night's sleep. Heck, he could even find a hobby. Wasn't that worth getting a little wet for?

He slammed one of his sais into a wooden post nearby, took a step forward, and then slammed the weapon into a tree. As long as he was anchored, he could walk without falling. Didn't matter how long it took, the storm had to end eventually. Clouds could only hold so much water, right? In the meantime, he'd make do with what he had.

A branch came flying at his face, seemingly out of nowhere. He ducked, whistling softly as it passed overhead, then grunted when another branch whipped him across the face.

Raph roared into the storm. "How am I supposed to take on the Shredder if I keep getting my butt kicked by trees?!"

When a garbage can came barreling down the road, he lowered his nictitating eyelids, then sliced it cleanly in half. The metal parted on both sides, separating into two pieces that missed the red-banded turtle by a mile. It wasn't a large success, but it was a start.

He was so going to ask Don to invent some cool new gadget so he could punch a thunderstorm in the face, though.

Like that, slicing at debris, anchoring himself to weighted objects, Raph managed to make it all the way to the very end of the street. He'd lifted a foot to take yet another step forward when something grabbed his shell, yanking him off the road so fast his vision tilted to the side, leaving him with the distinct and unpleasant notion that he'd left his stomach behind.

"Hey! What's the big idea?!" In another life, he would've looked up expecting to see Master Splinter or his brothers, but he knew his luck better than that. Also, the striped paw around his torso was a dead giveaway.

Sure enough, a soaking wet Tiger Claw with matted fur curled his lips back, revealing all of his pearly whites. Lightning struck in the distance, illuminating every wicked point with an eerie bluish glow. Keeping that in mind, Raph decided that if Tiger Claw made one crack about eating turtle soup, he was going to shave off all his fur and use him as the main attraction in their fake circus

Next thing he knew the paw around him disappeared. He was falling. A short yell escaped him as a roof rose up to meet him, gravel scraping at his face and arms as he rolled to ease the brunt of his fall.

Inhaling sharply, he scrabbled to his feet, wincing at the constant pressure the rain was putting on his new cuts and bruises. At the very least, it'd clean some of the dirt out.

Light streaked across the sky, throwing the three silhouettes standing over Raph's head into stark contrast. He relaxed his hold on his sais, rolled his shoulders, widened his stance, and affected a mocking tone. "Good!" He called out as Tiger Claw, Xever, and Rahzar leapt from their perch, each choosing to take their sweet time as they surrounded him like vultures. "I thought I was gonna have to find myself some new dummies to practice on, but it looks like they came to me!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raph's such an angry child, but he's also a sweetheart:)


	16. Together

"When I get my hands on him," leaves flew into his mouth. Disgusted, Leo spat them out and continued, "I'm going to skin him alive and wear his shell as a hat!"

"Good to know you're keeping your cool about this, Leo." It wasn't the first ranting threat Leo had made of that nature; it very likely wasn't going to be the last, and it would be so tempting for Donatello to just tune him out, but on the off chance Leo was serious, he decided to try explaining Raph's side a little. "Look, Mikey screaming at Master Splinter and running out like that freaked us all out. Then he almost drowned. And if Karai hadn't managed to save him in time, he'd be gone. Permanently. Not lost or missing. Dead. On our watch. I guess what I'm trying to say is: Can you really blame the guy for wanting someone to punch?" In the week they'd had their brothers back, whenever Don wasn't working on making new T-Phones for his brothers, rebuilding the Shell-Cycle, setting up a dummy website, or making sure his lab and everything in it was as safe and Mikey-proof as possible, he'd poured over essays and articles, anything about the side effects of psychological trauma he could get his hands on. Well-known symptoms included nightmares, trouble sleeping, anxiety, panic attacks, and flashbacks. To the best of his knowledge, Leo and Mikey were batting a thousand. The only difference was Leo was better at hiding it.

Still, knowing and doing something about it were two different things. Unlike humans, they didn't have counselors or psychiatrists. They had each other. Sometimes, maybe that wasn't enough. "We knew training with the Shredder was going to affect you two. There's no way it wouldn't. We just... didn't know it was going to be this bad."

Leo took a few more steps forward, and braced himself against yet another piece of flying debris. He grimaced into the wind, tossing aside the first sharp retort that popped into his head in favor of something that wouldn't make it sound like he wanted to bite Donnie's head off. None of this was his fault, after all. "We're fine," he gritted out. It was the best he could come up with. It was what he told himself everyday. They were _fine._

Leo ran ahead, calling for Raph, leaving Donatello to shake his head sadly. "No, you're really not."

If he really wanted to push Leo, all he had to do was bring up the multiple mentions of denial and avoidance he'd found, but that wasn't actually something he wanted to do. More than anything, he wanted to help. He just didn't know how.

And he was scared. Sure, he wasn't running off into the night like a raging homicidal meathead, but he could definitely understand the sentiment. When he'd lost Mikey's pulse, all his thoughts had been consumed by a desire to bring him back, no matter what. It didn't matter if the world burned.

A part of him still believed that the world could rot if it meant keeping his family together, and that part scared him. It wasn't rational or logical. It wasn't quantifiable. He couldn't study it in a test tube. It was something born from fear, from desperation, from uncertainty and loss. And a lot of anger.

Why were they born turtles? Why were they hunted? Why couldn't they have normal lives?

He couldn't answer any of those questions, the most important questions in his life. But the thing that most made him want to walk to the edge of the abyss and jump right in was the knowledge seared into his brain that, for all his intelligence, he didn't know how to keep his brothers safe.

Mikey's near-drowning had made that painfully clear.

In a way, he was thankful Raph had broke first. The task of finding him before someone else did was giving him a problem to work at and solve, one that didn't gnaw into his mind like a furry creature with claws.

Since he didn't want to be left behind, he quickened his pace, throwing Leo a sidelong glance, expecting a cold shoulder. Instead, Leo met his gaze full on, a worried crease in his brow, though it was there more often than not. "Sorry, Don. I didn't mean to snap at you like that."

He veered to the side to start the climb up a fire escape, his brother close on his heels. If they didn't stay close to each other, they'd lose track of where the other was, so it was best to move in tandem. Leo pulling ahead earlier had been reckless, and judging by the apology, he knew that, too.

Donnie sighed, then shouted when they cleared the roof, resulting in them losing most of their shelter from the worst of the storm's gales. "It's fine! Now wasn't a good time to bring it up!"

Leo shook his head. "It's not." They both knew he wasn't just talking about the conversation. "But it will be, okay? We'll talk about it later. All of us." He was so honest. So sure. It was as good as a promise.

And for once, Donatello allowed himself to think that it wasn't just him or Raph against the world, trying to keep the universe from taking back their brothers, from taking back what was _theirs_. Instead, he allowed the light feeling to take root in his chest. It felt good to know Leo was back and doing what he did best.

Giving them hope.

A sheet of metal plied off of one of the buildings, nicking Donatello's burned hand. Letting out a long, low hiss through clenched teeth, he gripped it close to his chest as they sailed over an alley filled with loose trash.

Predictably, Leo caught on immediately that something was wrong. "Don, you okay?" Great. The last thing he wanted was for Leo to worry about him. They had better things to do than check on his boo boos.

"I'm fine." It rang as true coming out of his mouth as it had coming out of Leo's, but he really was fine. There was literally nothing wrong with him.

Leo raised an eye ridge, with a look that clearly said, _Show me your hand or face the dire consequences I haven't thought up yet. They're extremely dire, though, and when I figure out what they are, you won't like them._

Okay. Donnie may have been guessing a little, but that was the gist of it.

Grumbling under his breath, Donnie held out his bandaged hand for his brother to inspect. It stung when the wrapping pulled at his raw skin, and Leo sucked in a breath. "Jeez, Don, some of these blisters are wrecked. Did you rub your hand over sand paper while I wasn't looking?"

Actually, training with a staff tended to have that effect on burns. "So, it's a little red. So what? Wrap it back up and let's go."

Much to Donnie's frustration, Leo hesitated. "Is your shell okay?" What he was really asking was 'Is this going to affect you in a fight?'

Pushing him away, Don snapped, "Like I said, I'm fine."

Still not convinced, Leo opened his mouth to argue when he noticed his brother wasn't paying attention, anymore. "Donnie?" Instead, he was staring straight past him. Leo turned sharply to see a giant orange and white blur swinging onto a building with something green wriggling in its arms. What were the chances that green thing wasn't _their_ green thing?

Suppressing a sigh that would last for an eternity, Leo rubbed his temples as he contemplated the best way to go about rescuing that walking, talking, pain his shell.

Well. First they had to get over there.

"Come on. Let's go save him."

 

"Has it ever occurred to you, turtle, that practicing under the Shredder was the best thing to happen to your ungrateful brothers? Are they not faster, more resilient, more ruthless?"

A kunai came flying out of the shadows. Fangs glittered in the dark. Raph had been hoping for more of a straightforward fight, not this game of hide and seek. Were they trying to wear him down? Heh. They were going to have to do better than that. "Why don't ya just come out and ask what's really on your mind?" He sneered, twirling his weapons as he waited for one of the three to make a mistake. "Are they more like your dear ol' Shred-head?"

To his surprise, he didn't get an answer right away. Suddenly, it seemed as though even the air, charged as it was, was holding its breath. "Well, sorry to disappoint, Whiskers, but Leo might be even more of a dork now than he was before. And Mikey-" He blanked, and in that split second of hesitation a shuriken nearly embedded itself in his shell.

With a shout, he shifted his center of balance, plucked a kunai from his pouch, and fired it in the direction from which he'd calculated the shuriken's trajectory. The resulting yelp he heard was immensely satisfying.

Having grown tired of playing with his food, Tiger Claw stepped into the light, his fur dripping and flat against his face. "Good news," Raph smirked. "You finally got a bath."

A deep growl reverberated in the tiger's throat as he shot forward, sword aimed for the young turtle's heart.

Raph crossed his weapons, blocking the worst of the blow, though the remaining two enemies made him nervous. With both of his arms occupied with keeping Tiger Claw from filleting him, how was he supposed to defend himself if Rahzar or Xever decided to attack him from behind? What he needed was an extra pair of arms. Since that wasn't going to happen, he put some power into his legs and flipped over and onto Tiger Claw, disentangling his weapons in the process.

Now he had two free hands and a ride. It might end up being the shortest ride of his life but, wow, the look on Tiger Claw's face alone was worth dying for.

Smiling widely, he positioned a sai over Tiger Claw's remaining eye. "You know, I've always had a thing for symmetry. How about I give you a matching set?"

_Let's see how scary you are when you're walking around with two eye patches._

Right before he plunged the metal down, a flash of blue and purple distracted him. It was literally the worst time in the world, he realized as a bony black paw tore him from Tiger Claw's neck, sending sprawling across the gravel with so much momentum he nearly tumbled off the roof. Even then, he was really glad to see them. On the other hand, "Leo, you loser! I had him!"

"It's not my fault you let yourself get distracted! It's also not my fault you decided to run off in the middle of a hurricane!"

"Actually, this is a tropical storm at best."

"Thanks, Don. What would we ever do without you?"

"Wonder hopelessly in ignorance." At Leo's glare, he added, "Well, that would be my best guess."

The reinforcements landed in front of Raph simultaneously, with Leo stooping to help Raphael to his feet regardless of what he'd said. Face drawn with worry, he asked in a low tone, "Are you hurt?"

Raph cracked his knuckles. "Nothing a little payback won't fix." When a quick search didn't turn up his little brother, he asked, "Where's Mikey?"

Without turning his back on Xever, Rahzar, or Tiger Claw, who were each approaching them from the front at an intimidatingly slow rate, Donnie answered, "Actually, we left him with Master Splinter. He was still a little shaken up and-" He paused, head cocked to the side. "Do you hear something that kind of sounds like an engine?"

"BOOYAKASHAAA!"

His jaw hanging open in disbelief, Donnie peered over side to see Michelangelo on the skateboard he'd built for him, riding it parallel to the wall of the building they were standing on without the board touching anything besides air. It wasn't just a fast skateboard. It was a real life rocket. "Huh," Donnie said softly. "I didn't know it could do that." Then his voice rose to a girlishly high pitch as he noticed one very important detail. "Oh my gosh." Turning back to Raph with panic written all over him, Donnie shrieked, "Master Splinter's on the skateboard!"

Leo did a double take. "He's what?!"

The force from the skateboard's flames tore open a path of broken windows and melted frames as they flew over the top and slammed into Xever, Tiger Claw, and Rahzar, eliciting another exhilarated whoop from the orange-masked turtle.

Master Splinter, on the other hand, was strangely quiet. In fact, judging by his posture, he seemed to have entered the first stages of rigor mortis.

Donnie took that as a bad sign.

Mikey flipped the power switch, driving the board into a screeching, screaming halt as its momentum carried it into a spin. Then he smiled at them, all sunshine and rainbows, and said, "Hey, bros! Sorry I'm late." He started dismounting, then noticed with a slight frown that Master Splinter still hadn't moved. "Uh, Sensei? You can get off now."

"Forgive me, Michelangelo," Master Splinter replied. Moving stiffly, he stepped off. "It would seem my body has not yet realized my life is no longer in peril." With a wan smile, he added, "Though I had every confidence in your abilities."

Mikey beamed. Then the sound of bone scraping across concrete and the crumpling of leather triggered his instincts. A blank film fell over his eyes, blocking out the worst of the rain as metal whistled through the air and he pushed Master Splinter away from him with a shout. "Watch out!" A sword sailed past the space where Splinter's head was moments before.

"Perhaps," Tiger Claw growled, "you should not count your chickens before they hatch." He and the other two mutants were built for endurance. It was going to take more than even a skateboard to fully incapacitate them.

"Remember, turtle," Xever hissed as he clambered to his feet, his poison-barbed tail swishing agitatedly from side to side, "I no longer owe you a life debt."

"And I," Rahzar rasped, clicking his claws together, "am so looking forward to _sparring_ with you again. Are your brothers also going to stand by and watch as I choke the life from your lungs? The way Leonardo chose to do not so long ago?"

In response to the taunt, Raph moved in front of Leo, "Shut your mouth, Rahzar," and Donatello spun his staff over his head and body, reflecting fondly on how much more likeable the wolf mutant was when he was knocked out in the pharmacy.

"I think it's about time you went back to sleep." They looked over their shoulders to judge Leo's reaction, since he'd been worrying silent, and what they saw sent a thrill of fear through their chests. He was breathing hard, the air around him misting around him like a rolling fog. Then a snarl of incoherent rage ripped out of him and a kunai appeared clasped between his teeth. In the sheets of rain and the howling wind, a demon had been born.

After a second's hesitation, Raph nodded. "Okay, Fearless. What's our next move?"

The answer came out muffled, but its meaning was clear enough. "Let's teach this dog how to play dead."

Meanwhile, Splinter stepped in front of Michelangelo, his stern gaze on the tiger unholstering his blaster in front of him. "It is time for my sons and I to return home. This is one fight you are not going to win."

'Yeah!" Mikey chimed in, the released _kusarigama_ blades spinning in wide arcs at his sides the only evidence he was taking the battle seriously. "What he said."

"Thank you, Michelangelo."

When Tiger Claw sprinted towards Splinter, gun firing with precisely aimed and lethal ammo, Splinter barely moved from one spot. Instead of expending a large amount of energy leaping and flipping out of the way, he forced Tiger Claw to exhaust himself by using as little energy as possible.

And every time the tiger came within reach, another pressure point was pressed, another limb taken from him, until the cat howled with fury.

And Mikey couldn't help but think that real ninja masters were way more impressive than their cheap armored knock-offs.

Since it looked like Splinter wasn't going to be having any trouble with Tiger Claw, he jogged over to his brothers to see if they needed his help. Raph was kicking Rahzar in the face. At the same time, Leo was darting behind his legs and slicing at tendons, though whether he was doing it because it was necessary or because he wanted to make the experience as painful as possible, Mikey wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Interestingly, Donnie and Xever were both watching the one-sided beatdown from the sidelines. "Hey, Don." Mike trotted up to him. Then, keeping on eye on Xever, he said, "You get tired of beating up on Rahzar?"

"Oh no. I got in a few extremely satisfying hits. Figured those two could handle the rest." One of their brothers landed a hit on Rahzar that sent him crashing to his knees, a pitiful whimper leaking from his lips. All parties on the sidelines winced. "If I didn't hate him so much, I might actually feel bad for him."

Xever sniffed. "Even if I did not hate him as much as I do, I would not feel bad for him."

"The sense of camaraderie you Foot have for each other sure is something."

The battle was so overwhelmingly in their favor, Donatello estimated it would be over in less than five minutes. With both Tiger Claw and Rahzar incapacitated, they could return to the lair and rest. With that in mind, he started rearranging the bandages on his hand, flinching slightly when he noticed a few more blisters had burst, the clear fluid mixing with the light dusting of rain still falling from the sky. He shifted, turning his shell only a fraction, but both Xever and Michelangelo noticed the diluted pink stain radiating from the center of the pad taped to his shell.

He must've jostled it in the fight, Mikey thought. No wonder he wanted a time-out.

He opened his mouth to say something when Xever's expression darkened, the side of his mouth twisting in a cruel sneer. "I knew it." Before Mike could shout a warning, a mechanical foot slammed into the back of Donatello's shell, launching him right off the building.

"Donnie!"

Confusion ran into fear that propelled him forward. He stabbed his kusarigama blade into the wall without stopping and leapt off the building after him.

Donnie's eyes widened with shock when he saw him, but he reached out, grabbing his little brother so Mikey could focus on keeping them both from plummeting to the ground. The chain snapped taut, nearly pulling Mike's arm out with it, and he cried out in pain.

"You okay, Mikey?"

He wheezed a laugh. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? You almost went splat, bro."

"Yeah, but I didn't. Thanks for that." They were always one bad call, one misplaced step, one fight away from losing each other, but it hadn't happened yet. Not yet.

Three pairs of strong hands hauled them back up in no time, then they were checked over, with both Leo and Raph fussing over them while Master Splinter fixed Xever with a hard glare as he debated which type of sashimi he was going to chop the fish mutant into.

Xever, having a fairly good notion of what was going through his mind, gulped.

However, when Splinter stepped forward, Mikey shook his head. "If it's okay, Master Splinter, I'd like to fight him."

Graciously, Splinter stepped aside. However, if it appeared at any time that the fish was being dishonorable or his son was in danger, he would not be content to merely watch. "If you need me, Michelangelo, your brothers and I are here."

Mikey nodded, ducking his head as a small, uncharacteristically shy smile spread across his face. "I know, Sensei." Then he turned back to Xever, who'd been in the middle of a beating a hasty retreat, and fury flowed over his features, hotter than molten lava.

He extended his chains, keeping the blades released. "You tried to kick my brother off a building, Fishface." The chains started to spin, the blades howled, screeching ghoulishly as they repeatedly scraped against the gravel. Lightning cut the sky.

The friction generated a heat that sent glowing sparks flying across Mikey's feet. He ignored the sting, focusing only on spinning his blades faster and faster. Then he shot forward like a bullet out of a chamber.

Xever twisted his head in a panic as he tried to keep track of the orange-masked nightmare. It landed in front of him without making a sound and he kicked out at it, but his leg hit only empty air. Something cold punctured his back, then searing, excruciating pain radiated from the wound.

One of his mechanical legs groaned and snapped in two, sending Xever sprawling to the gravel, where he continued to writhe in burning agony.

Mikey glared down at him, chest heaving. Taking note of the way the poisonous yellow eyes swiveled in their sockets. Again, the victory didn't actually bring him any joy or satisfaction, but he knew that if he walked away now, Xever, Tiger Claw, and Rahzar would just come after them again.

With that in mind, he whispered, "Xever? If you can hear me, close your eyes." And poised a heated blade over his forehead.

At the very least, Mikey thought as his heart slammed against his rib cage, it wasn't going to hurt for long.

As he forced the blade down, Michelangelo shut his own eyes, only to pop them back open when he suddenly felt hands holding his arms, halting his swing. Bewildered, his turned his head to see Leo and Raph breathing twin sighs of relief at his sides while Master Splinter gently pried the _kusarigama_ from his shaking fingers. "You have done well, Michelangelo. More than enough. Do not allow the Foot to take more from you than they deserve."

"He's right, Mikey." Donnie wrapped an arm around all three of his brothers. "Let's go home."

 

They had to keep to the alleys and shadows on the way back due to the sun dissipating most of their cloud coverage. Humans started peeking out of their homes to see the damage the storm had left behind. Puddles decorated the streets and sidewalks, with broken branches and wet leaves plastered around and floating inside of them. The Hamato family as a whole was looking forward to warm beds and a hot shower.

Since Mikey refused to leave the skateboard behind, he and Donatello were tasked with making sure it made its way safely back to the lair. Considering Master Splinter looked like a ghost when he stared at it for too long, Donatello figured he was getting off relatively lightly.

With those two occupied, Leo had a chance to talk to Raph about something that'd been bugging him. He waved to get his attention. Raph grunted, letting him know he had it, then sidestepped a soda can. "Why'd you stop Mikey from killing Fisface? Not that I'm trying to encourage you, because I'm not, but I thought the whole reason you ran off today was so you could hunt down the Shredder."

Raph arched a brow. "Why'd you stop him?" Because watching Mike steel himself to kill an opponent that was already down for the count had made his skin crawl. Because he'd looked so absolutely miserable. "See? I know I can live with the Shredder's blood on my hands. Heck, I'll probably sleep like a baby. And Mike could do it, too. We all could." Up ahead, Donnie laughed at something Mikey said, the sound warm and welcome in the cool morning air. "But if I can keep those two happy, then it's worth having to wipe the floor with Fishface and all those other goons some other day, right? As for the Shredder…"

"We'll take him out."

"Yeah," Raph agreed, his gaze on his two younger brothers as one of them slipped in a puddle and the other helped him to his feet with a teasing smirk. "The sooner the better."

 

Casey had begged her parents every day for two weeks to take her to the turtle circus. After three days of trying to buy tickets off a a website that repeatedly took them to the homepage, regardless of which link they opened, they sat her down in the kitchen so they could talk to her about internet scams and practical jokes. Casey didn't buy it, though. She'd told all the kids at school about the circus and the super nice turtles. Some of them thought she was telling stories and made fun of her, but they hadn't met the turtles. Not like she did.

Still, after the second week passed with still no word from the turtle circus, Casey started to have her doubts. She was curled up in a ball, hugging a stuffed turtle to her chest, when her parents called her from the living room.

"Casey, honey, you have to see this!"

A small gasp escaped her as her hopes soared. It was the turtles. She didn't know how or why, but she knew it was them.

She tore out of her room like a whirlwind, racing down the steps in two's until she came careening to a halt in front of her parent's television screen. Then she pressed right up against the screen, her parents laughing as they watched her from the couch.

In front of her, a turtle in a purple mask and a top hat was saying, "So, we heard that you kids really wanted to see our Turtle Circus! Well, we hope you're ready, because do we have a show for you."

A spotlight swung from the ceiling, falling on a blue-eyed turtle with a blue mask. He wasn't the turtle she was waiting for, but she still clapped happily when she saw him. "Are you ready Leo?" Another turtle, the one she'd seen wearing a red mask, stepped forward with a wooden plank in each of his hands.

Leo cleared his throat nervously. "Uh. Hi kids." He waved at the camera. Casey waved back. "This move is called a split kick. Don't try this at home."

He leapt into the air like he was weightless, extending both of his legs in a split that would've made all the cheerleaders at school turn green, and snapped both of the planks in half. Looking pleased with himself, he bowed, and Casey slapped her hands together until her palms stung.

"Would you look at that?" The purple-masked turtle commented, his eyes on a computer screen. "They love you."

One of the turtles whistled out of frame. "Well, what do ya know? Mr. Popular's going to be the VIP at every tea party in America."

Someone snorted. "You're up next, Raph." Casey's parents glanced at each other with concern when sounds of protests and – was that a scuffle? – started emanating from their television. Meanwhile, the ringleader in the top hat seemed to enjoying himself. "Ah, come on. You said you'd do it for the children!"

Suddenly, the performer in the red mask was pushed into frame with a stringy lion's mane taped around his neck. The performers themselves appeared to be cracking up. Casey giggled. "I am a lion." The turtle said in a monotone. "Hear me roar."

Nothing happened.

"Maybe we should throw a chair at him?" Another performer commented from off-stage. At the sound of his voice, Casey lit up, her eyes searching the corners and sides so she could catch a glimpse of him.

"Try it, Mikey. I'm beggin' ya."

The ringleader apologized as the turtle in the blue mask dragged their makeshift lion out of frame. "And now for our last act of the day!"

The spotlight moved around the floor, swinging back and forth as if to build the anticipation. Finally, it stilled. They'd seen this performer with the others, but he looked healthier now. They all did, actually. At the sight of him, Casey let out a squeal, shrill and inordinately pleased as she fisted her little palms around her dress. Her father clapped his hands over his ears. "I met him! I _knew_ they didn't lie. It really is a circus!"

The performer in the orange mask smiled winsomely for the camera. "This is my new move. I call it, Gama Grinding." With a wink, he added, "Name's copyrighted, kiddies."

Blades popped out of his nunchucks as he extended a long chain, then he whirled the blades until they grinded against the floor, each of them wailing at the contact as though they were enduring some sort of torture. Sparks flew as he started to sweat, then Casey's mother pointed out the different piles of powder gathered around the performers feet.

A orange spark shot into the air. To the little girl with her face pressed to the glass, it looked like a pixie as it danced and fizzled over the screen. Then a red spark went up, billowing clouds of scarlet smoke as it burned. The blades were swinging so fast they looked like glowing silver rings at the turtle's sides. Two small pops later and the rings changed to a vibrant purple.

Casey's father nodded his head in approval. "This reminds me of something my chemistry teacher did in high school. They must have a chemist on their team." Casey shushed him. He shrugged sheepishly. "Right. Sorry, sweetie."

At last, the turtle in the orange mask arched his head back, and blue fire erupted from his mouth. He pivoted his head from side to side like a dragon as the other colors surrounded him, and when the blue, purple, orange, and red obscured him from view completely, the sound abruptly stopped. When the smoke dissipated, all four performers were standing there in a line, bowing. "We hope you liked our show!"

"Have a goodnight, everyone!"

"And don't forget to drink milk and eat your vegetables!"

The turtle in the red mask rolled his eyes. "I'm going to bed. Wake me up when the shame's worn off."

The family watched in bemused silence as the program faded to black with three of the performers waving cheerily as they forced the fourth not to leave while the cameras were still rolling."

"Well…" Casey's father searched for an appropriate adjective, finally settling on, "That was different. Did you like it, Casey?"

Their daughter glanced from the stuffed turtle they'd gotten her on their trip to New York City, then to the television screen, and then to her parents. Finally, she held up her stuffed turtle for her parents to see. "We have to find him brothers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation: She needs three more.
> 
> Credit for Gama Grinding goes to DoodleDumble. I really wanted Mikey to break out a fire themed move at the end and DoodleDumble was nice enough to allow me to use hers. It's pretty cool, right? 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this story all the way to the end. I wrote through what felt like a hundred writer's blocks and pushed some things out of the way that really should have garnered a little more of my attention, but now that it's done, I think I can safely say that I'm proud of what I have here. It was originally planned to be four chapters, with each of them containing up to 5,000 words, but it went almost three times longer. That was actually pretty frustrating at times. Still, I enjoyed writing it and reading all the responses it received, and now I have some time for other things.
> 
> As you probably noticed, Mikey still doesn't have his memories of Splinter back by the end. What he does have, though, are new memories. And I decided that having them all be safe and together so they could have a future was a little more important than remembering the past. Needless to say, the past is still very important, and I don't think Mike's family will give up on at least trying to get him to remember Master Splinter, but they'll likely go about it by telling him stories. And, piece by piece, I think he will remember. It might come back looking like a mixed up photo album at first, a random collection of memories that don't make any sense, and then, eventually, they will. As far as I'm concerned, the first five years of his life were destroyed by the poison. They're not coming back. The memories of Splinter, on the other hand, they're just deeply buried.
> 
> Q: Did Master Splinter allow hacking into a television station and filming an impromptu performance in the lair?  
> A: Absolutely not. He wasn't going to reveal his presence by scolding them on camera, but the instant the show ended, those boys were in so much trouble. 
> 
> Q: Was it really necessary? It was only one disappointed kid in America.  
> A: Well, there could have been more kids in the crowd and she did tell her friends, but isn't one disappointed kid a good enough reason? To the turtles, I think it would be. At their hearts, they're pretty selfless and kind. It's what makes them heroes, right? Plus, they got to have some fun with it.


End file.
